Within My Right
by avadak3davra
Summary: Elea doesn't want to talk to anyone or even be bothered. All she wants is to be left alone, and pass initiation. But Eric won't have that. Elea's blank stares and quietness is not welcomed. And he will do whatever it takes to make the girl talk. (ERIC Oc. Lots of Eric scenes. Next chapters will be longer!)
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: Thank you for reading. Next chapters will be alot longer and more detailed. Alot of panic is in Eleas head because on the outside she is very blank faced and in her own world. ALOT of Eric scenes coming up in future chapters. Please note I had to type this on a tablet**.

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><p>It was lovely when the soft breeze flew through my frizzy brown hair, and when brown leaves crunched beneath my bare feet. But that was Amity.<p>

Dauntless.

I am now Dauntless, but deep down I am still missing the security Amity had given me. It feels like forever, but truth is I am still on the train catching my breath, and wearing my old life awaiting the unknown of the new.

As an Amity I'm suppose to be optimistic, peaceful, open, loving, and polite. Peaceful and polite...yes. But especially not open and optimistic. I was not the normal Amity.

Why Dauntless? Because I trusted the test. I picked a knife. Instead of a block of cheese I picked the knife. Not something I'm proud of. Disappointed isn't even strong enough.

Jesus, forgive me.

Why Dauntless? I can't be Dauntless.

_You can't_.

I have to.

_But you're pathetic_.

Jesus, forgive me.

I don't belong here.

_You have to now. Or you die. Haha_

My mind, like usual, fights causing me a headache.

"Are they jumping?" someone asks.

They're jumping.

_You have to jump. Or not._

I can't.

_You have to. Or not._

I take a step back, take a breath, and run as fast as the wolves then jump as high as a cat. Soon I am flying like an Eagle before I crash into ruble and cement. My knees scuff, and palms burn.

_Don't be such a baby._

The voices in my head are annoying even though they are the only voices I can talk to. Sadly.

In attempt for cover I move to the back, hiding behind a tall Candor girl with big shoulders. For a peak, I stand on my toes, and see a tall man in the front. Tattoos run all over his neck and he wears a few piercings. Nothing different for a Dauntless. Will I turn into this?

_Only if you make it._

I wince hoping my mind will shut up.

_You're pathetic for an Amity. And now a Dauntless._

I bite my finger, and my breathing pitches.

_Panic attack? Asthma? Do you even have your inhaler._

I check my skirt pocket, and feel a ping of relief.

"Okay, my name is Eric!" he says. "Want to enter Dauntless? This is the way in! Don't have the guts, you don't deserve to be Dauntless!"

"Is there water at the bottom?" Naturally an Erudite.

"Guess you'll find out," he says.

_Ha. You can't even swim._

I wince again.

After awhile an Abnegation girl who is about my height jumps first, and it feels like forever until its just me and a Candor girl left. He, Eric, scans the both of us. First me, then her, and back at me.

"Hippie," he says. "You're up!" I force myself up to the front, swinging on the ledge.

_I hope you die._

Why am I here? Oh, yeah, the knife.

_You're not brave._

I know.

_Coward._

I know.

Then as I slip I fall and fly through weightlessness. It's not as bad as I had previously thought. Instead it's exciting.

Don't scream.

I don't. Instead I hold my breath until I hit the net. A laugh slips through my lips, but I quickly shut up when I notice other people.

"Name?" A boy a few years older than me asks. I don't answer, just stare. "Name?" He sighs as I glance to a bracelet.

"Elea?" I nod. "Anymore jumpers?" I put up one finger. "Second to last jumper Elea!"

Still pathetic.


	2. Chapter 2

My stomach drops. It's proving difficult to keep calm. My hands double check for an inhaler, and I take a deep breath and exhale. Sharing and openess was suppose to be an Amity thing, but is it also Dauntless? I study the horrific scene before me; ten beds, side by side. Then to my right all I can see is an open bathroom.

"You should feel right at home, Candor," he says, smirking. Christina stares at Al, and back at Four. "Everything in the open."

Her cheeks still show some flushing from her prior incident. I'm hesitant to look at Four in fear that he may target my own faction of origin. Amity in terms of numbers have it far worse than Abnegation when it comes to stereotypes. For an example, females can hardly walk in groups without hearing degrading slurs. Most I refuse to repeat.

He walks to a cupboard, and throws some clothing in a pile. He says, "get dressed. Meet me in the pit in five minutes. Don't bother if you're going to be late!"

When he leaves everyone is silent. They share looks of slight embarrassment. People expect me to be use to this, but I never objected myself in nudity groups.

The Amity love the freedom of ones natural self. Nudity was nothing strange, and was widely accepted. There was no shame, and it was nothing dirty. They see it as beautiful. The human body was nature, and to put shame to it was wrong.

Or to them.

My body is my body. Hence why I refuse to let anyone see me naked. It's shameful, and in the least bit pretty.

My breasts are over average, and my thighs are chunky. Well everywhere is chunky. My cheeks normally resemble those of a chipmunk hiding nuts.

The only thing I somewhat appreciate are my eyes, and I like my nose.

"Nice thighs, Stiff!" Drew and Peter joke. Molly simply chuckles to herself, her crooked teeth slightly showing.

Searching through the pile of mess I find a big shirt, and a pair a pants. My first pair. Amity females wear only skirts. I tug them on under my bright yellow skirt, hiding myself. And repeat the same with the shirt. Pants feel quite restricting, yet revealing. The black, cotton fabric clings to me like it's second skin. I'm not fond of this new transition.

My body is my body.

They'll see you naked sooner or later.

No.

Coward.

Not in the mood.

While the Voice is a friend- kind of, it tends to get annoying. Grabbing my insecurities, and waving them around me is its best specialty. But nonetheless it's the only thing I can talk to, really. While with other people I tend to choke up or stutter. So it is easier to just say silent.

I finish dressing, and leave. Tris and Christina follow close behind me. Four waits for us by a smokey bowl filled with coal. It's similar to the one at the Choosing Ceremony. Subconsciously I cradle my clothing close to my chest.

"In Dauntless we take faction before blood very seriously," Four says, folding his arms, his muscles tightly twitching under his shirt. He glances to the burning coal. "You throw your old faction clothes in.

Hesitantly I throw them in, and watch them burn. My old life disappearing in front of me. My fellow initiates do the same. Throw them in, but watch with sadness.

Luckily, I secretly hide my bracelet under my sleeve the best I can. For a split second I contemplate shoving it in my boot. I can't even start to fathom what Four would do if he found it.

Or Peter. I've known him less than an hour, and I already dislike him. He wears a sneaky cloak around him, and a smile that spells out devil. Right now it's Tris, but soon he'll get bored. He'll move onto a better target. One that he has to work at. A target that he can play with for a while before it gets old. That'll be me.

After we all finish our first act of defiance against our old factions, Four releases us to dinner where I have to listen to Max repeat everything Four and Eric had already said.

I look over the dishes, and to my distaste all I see are hamburgers and potatoes. Potatoes are alright, but I can't eat a hamburger. It is meat. It is a cow. Not a food. A cow is a poor living thing raised for slaughter just for human taste. I look at it with disgust, and the others notice.

"Why aren't you two eating?" Christina asks. "Never seen a hamburger before?"

"Stiffs eat plain food with limited seasoning," Will says, putting a spoonful of potatoes in his mouth. "And the Amity only eat fresh fruits and vegetables. Occasionally organic pastries."

Apple pie, I want to say. Al takes another hamburger, and Christina snorts.

"That's stupid," she says, and I can feel her eyes on me.

I look at her, and shamefully take a burger, but there is absolutely no desire for me to eat it. It's repulsive.

"Typical Candor!" Will says, laughing. His head shakes with disbelief.

"What's that suppose to mean?" She asks, taken back.

"Your faction has no filter! You say the first thing that pops in your head."

Don't you wish you could join in?

No, I say to the Voice, lying. Distraught, I look down at my plate, and poke my food with a fork.

"What? Like you're stupid?" Al laughs, and Tris joins in.

The light hearted bicker goes on a little more before Four gets annoyed by it. He makes his sighs obvious, and I can feel him glaring.

"I don't want to hear about your old factions anymore," he says. "You're Dauntless now."

"Were you a transfer, too?" Tris, he said enough, and now you're gonna ask. Great. I look at Four.

"What makes you think you can talk to me?"

"I don't know, maybe because you're so approachable! Like a bed of nails," she says. Four snorts, and takes a drink.

"Watch yourself," he says.

"Four," a familiar deep voice speaks. His shadow casts slightly over the table. It makes him look bigger. Eric I think it was. "Max wants to talk to you." I look at him, and study his features.

His tattoos are simple, but they are well suited for him. Just like his piercing above his eye, and the ones in his ears. Eric is a bit intimidating, but I wonder what he'd look like in Amity. Gentle and kind probably. Especially with his blue eyes.

I could see Four in Amity clothing as well. Especially with his tan skin.

"Hippie," Eric says, and then I notice I've been staring. I do that. A lot.

_That's because you're dumb._

I look away, and fork at my potatoes that are probably cold by now.

"Don't even try," Four grumbles, getting up. "Hasn't said a thing since she's gotten here."

I hate being the subject of someone's conversation when I'm right there.

When Four leaves, Eric stays. To my dismay, he even sits right across from me. His eyes are cold and harsh while mine probably look like a deer in headlights.

He leans in.

"You have to admit," Christina says, "her face looks as if she's dead. No emotion."

"Like a robot," Al says

Eric gives a hostile glance to Christina and Al before looking back at me.

"I suspect you'll talk tomorrow," he says. "If you don't find that voice of yours you may find yourself sleeping on pavement." Is he giving me a warning? I stand my ground like it doesn't bother me. "Is that clear, initiate?"

I don't answer. He gets up, but so fast his gigantic fist collides with the rock hard table. It's outcome runs through my body, making me jump, but I don't gasp or scream.

I don't give in.

People look at me and him with amusement, but in the least bit do I find it funny. He walks away smoothly and calmly.

"You two have a death wish," Christina says.

**Authors Note: thank you for the people who read and favorited my story! Sorry for mistakes. I'm still using mobile. Sadly. I defiantly write better with a computer. Please read and review!**

**Thanks for reading**


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: I am still on mobile. Thank you for reading, favoring/following/, and my one reviewer! :D made my day!**

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><p>My first night at Dauntless I don't sleep. Instead I sit up and lean against the rock hard wall while my ears fill with sounds of sleep. Insomnia is just lovely. I sigh as I look at the digital clock. It reads 7:15. Training starts at eight. Four made that very clear last night. Eight to six...brilliant!<p>

I'm the first one awake considering I didn't even sleep. I discreetly change into my black clothing, and walk down to breakfast without a sound.

Not many people are up yet. Only a few people scatter around. Most look like zombies. The others seem to be insomniacs, like me.

I sit and sip at coffee. My face scrunches at the bitter taste, and I push it away. Amity loves tea. Mostly sweet tea that is brewed in jars. Green jasmine for the colder months. It was such a nice calming taste that sugar was barely needed. Coffee on the other hand needs a lot. How people can have it black was something I can never understand.

It even leaves an ugly after taste in my mouth that I get rid of with a piece of toast.

"Blah," I say in a way only noticeable to me.

I never liked bread anyway. Actually I never trusted the bread. The only times I did were when my Mom made it, and I watched her carefully. To be honest I never ate the Amity cooking. It tasted weird. Mom's cooking was fresh tasting, and made my tummy warm.

I try a muffin instead. The pleasant warm taste explodes in my mouth, and I find myself pleased for the first time in what it seems like forever. It even taste sweet like cranberries. My tummy is now warm, and a smile unintentionally tugs at my mouth.

"How'd you get here so early?" Christina asks through a yawn. Her hair is slightly messy, and if I wasn't a freak, I'd point out the dried drool on her mouth.

Tris isn't as bad as Christina, but still looks sleepy, but not as bad as Al and Will. They both shove toast and muffins in their mouths while debating on something. Number one rule: don't debate with an Erudite.

"Did any of you sleep last night?" Edward asks with Myra glued at his hip.

Everyone says 'barely', but that's a lie because I was the only one awake.

"Who can with Peter's snoring?" Christina asks with a bitter tongue sensing that the two hated each other prior to transferring.

That, and Peter doesn't snore. Will does, though. But Peter mumbles in his sleep.

_You watch people while they sleep?_

No!

_Right._

A blush tints my cheeks. What else can I do in ten hours? You learn a lot about people as they sleep. Will has bad sinuses, Peter has nightmares, and Molly's non-stop leg movement suggest Restless Leg syndrome. A smirk appears across my lips. How Erudite of me.

"Hey!" Tris chuckles, looking at me. I push away as she attempts to place her hand on my shoulder. I look at her as I look at everyone.

"You heard what Eric said yesterday," Christina says. "So maybe you should try to talk to us first!"

Will, Al, Christina, Tris, Edward, and Myra all look at me at once. My heart rate increases then I start to feel a pain in my head. I don't ignore people because I'm shy, I ignore people because I'm damaged.

I get up, and leave.

As I expected I'm the first one in the training room except Four. I stand awkwardly before the horrible trio walks in. Peter in the front followed by Drew and Molly.

They look at me, and snicker amongst themselves. Maybe they've already got bored of Tris? I look at them, but they really don't bother me to be honest. They're just high school bullies with nothing better to do.

_Attempting to ease yourself?_

Maybe.

Everyone else comes in, and the show begins. Four stands in front of us pacing a few times before speaking.

"You'll be scored, and by the end of stage one four of you will be cut," he says. My stomach turns a little. "Today is just practice, but tomorrow you'll be fighting eachother! Tomorrow your wins and losses count, so pay attention, and don't screw around!"

A few of the transfers whisper to one another, and I feel like the only one listening at this point. Four looks at me pursing his lips.

"Elea," he says, uninterested in his job. His eyes are somewhat like mine.

I don't say anything waiting for him to continue.

"Elea," he repeats impatiently.

"She's still a mute!" Peter snorts, laughing obnoxiously at me. Molly and Drew follow.

Myra coughs.

"A mute is someone who cannot talk, see, or hear," she says. The Erudite transfers shift in pride.

"But," Will chips in. "Elea has already shown that she can hear and see, but whether she can talk-"

"Are we in Erudite or Dauntless?" Four asks surprisingly calm. "Because if I wanted to join Erudite, I would have!" He looks back at me. "Seeing that you're still gathering your voice," he turns to Tris. "Stiff, come here."

She steps forward, and Four starts to demonstrate different fighting moves. He goes so fast my mind can barely process it. The only thing that sticks in my head is a simple punch. I already know how to kick, and defending seems easy enough.

After Four finishes and Tris moves back to Christina, he makes us go and practice at the punching bags. I hit it the hardest I can, swinging it only to have it wack me back. I stumble a little on my own feet, and my hair blocks my eyesight. Peter chuckles from next to me.

"Drew," he says. "I think we have a real winner over here."

"Well, you know what they say about Amity girls," Drew replies, taking the other punching bag next to me.

"Yeah, all love and no hate," Peter smirks. "Very giving." His hand finds its way to my hair making a shiver run up and down my spine.

He's touching me. No one touches me. I move over a little ignoring them. Amity girl jokes are old. We don't 'give'.

I huff in annoyance and try to move to another punching bag. But Drew moves in closer. Close enough for Peter's chest to act as a wall.

"Aww," Drew pouts as his hand also finds its way to my hair. "Are you scared?" He teases me, and a hiss slips from my lips as his fingers catch a knott.

"That's not very Amity of you," Peter says in my ear, and Drew pokes my nose.

"Your nose is cute," he torments, and I smack his hand away.

Drew and Peter laugh at me, continuing to touch my hair and face. Anger fills my veins as I try to punch, but Peter grabs my wrist hard to the point I whimper.

"You're pretty frisky aren't you," Peter says. "But once an Amity whore, always an Amity whore."

They go to leave me but at this point, I see Four looking at me along with Eric. I keep forgetting I am Dauntless now and Dauntless always fight back.

_You know how to kick._

I grab onto Drew's arm and then with all my force, I knee him in the crotch hard enough to send him in couched position, stepping a few steps back. In agony he bites his lip and whimpers.

In the heat, I glare and growl at Peter with balled fist. He looks amused with the rise he got out of me.

"Don't act so hostile," he smirks. "It's not our fault you don't submit to your nature," he says. Amity women are not whores, I think to myself. We're respectful unlike twats like you.

I go to kick him like Drew, but Al and Will are quick to stop me. Eric smoothly walks over, smiling.

Why is he smiling?

"Wow, hippie," he says. "I'm slightly impressed with your anger." He moves close to me like Drew had and all of the sudden I feel small. "But have you found your voice yet?"

I'm silent and still looking into his eyes. They're cold and mean, cruel and evil. He repeats the very action that got me pissed in the first place by touching my hair and curling it around his fingers.

But this time everyone watches as he violates my personal space. Feeling so tiny and so ashamed of my self, I look down at my feet. Goose bumps grow up and down my arms as my nerves make my temperature drop. I rub my arms, shifting uncomfortably as he finger combs my hair, but like last night, he's quick.

"Gah!" I yelp as his hand roughly grabs my face, making me look at him.

"Dauntless don't look down!" he yells an inch from my face. I whimper as he pulls my hair and throws me to the ground.

Tris runs to my side to help.

"Don't touch her," Eric says. "Dauntless don't give up. Dauntless aren't silent either."

And people don't touch me! I narrow my eyes at him.

I taste iron as blood trickles from my bottom lip. Four ignores Eric's orders and harshly pulls me up.

It must be 'let's touch Elea' day because Four also grabs my face, looking over the bruises forming.

"You're okay," he says, and he looks at Drew. "Stop crying and walk it off!"

Eric isn't pleased with me because Four helped me up. He glares, folding his arms, standing in a agitated stance.

Tris and Christina rub my back while Al pats me on the shoulder as we continue to practice.

It had only been a few hours and I'm already in pain. Every time I look to Eric he is staring, eying me like an Erudite studies.

"He's nothing more than a bully," Christina says, rubbing my back again.

NO ONE TOUCHES ME! No matter what, no one touches me. Stop. Stop. I stiffen and my fist ball, and I want to scream. I need to scream.

Tris pats my shoulder, and I snap. I turn to her and grab her hand, pushing it away. With my eyes, I plead for her to stop.

Surprisingly Tris doesn't get offended, but instead she smiles, nodding.

"I won't touch you," she says. "Are you sure you weren't Abnegation?" I nod and focus back on my punching bag.

_It's okay, you have me._

Leave me alone, please.

_But I'm the only one that cares. They don't care about you, they want you dead. They think you're ugly and useless-_

I know.

_I'm your only friend. Talk to me. Ignore them._


	4. Chapter 4

Lunch came at a very slow pace. Training was harsher than I expected. I touch my tender lip where I nicked myself. The wound already clotted, but my jaw kills from when Eric grabbed me. It's sensitive, and when I poke at my chipmunk like cheeks pain radiates throughout the jaw. Bruises are probably making their mark by now.

"You know, it doesn't look half bad," Al says, smiling, putting some potatoes on my plate. "Makes you kinda fit in, you know?"

I'll take that as a compliment. A rare thing from a Candor. Even a Dauntless one.

I nod while shoving some potatoes in my mouth followed by a wince. It even hurts to eat mush.

"Why aren't you eating a burger?" Molly asks, sitting down.

She smirks at me.

"Because she doesn't have to," Al says, making me look weak. She glares at him before flinging beef onto my plate.

I push it at her, but then she throws it at me. Some of the Dauntless born initiates from the other table look over as the plate makes a loud "ching".

"Eat it!" She says, practically yelling. "Eat it or I'll tell Eric, then laugh as he shoves it down your-"

"FUCK OFF, MOLLY!" Christina yells, throwing an empty cup at her.

Molly growls under her tongue before storming off. I cannot help but subtly flip her off. Tris catches and then does the same.

"What just happened?" Four asks from behind me. I look at him standing tall. He looks down upon me like I am child.

"Molly just came over and started a fight, but now it's okay," Tris answers.

"Well," he starts, "make sure it stays that way."

Break is over before I could finish, but eating was useless anyway. Even though my stomach growls. Molly eye's me and then Eric.

"Feeling okay?" Will asks, as I rub my temple. He examines me. "You're shaking!" He's says loud enough for everyone to hear, and I want to punch him for it.

"What now?" Eric growls, standing above me. "Hippie, are you seriously in that much of attention-"

"She hasn't eaten," Molly says, proud of herself. I glare at her. She's lying.

"Molly, shut up!" Al says. "Elea ate, and you know it!"

"Just because she doesn't eat meat-"

"Stop!" Four raises his voice and everyone's quiet. Even the Dauntless born on the other end.

Eric eyes me.

"What do you mean she doesn't eat meat?" Eric asks, and Will answers.

"She's a vegetarian."

"Hippie, if you wanted to be a vegetarian you should have stayed in pussyville!" He turns to Tris and orders her to get me a chair.

I just want today to end.

A few seconds later, I am sitting on the chair with a small table in front of me. For the first time in awhile I want to cry. Tears hang on the tips of my lids as I look at the plate.

The Dauntless born are watching anxiously along with my fellow transfers.

"Eat it," Eric orders, his arms folded. Peter wears a smug look.

"How is she going to eat all that?" A dark boy asks.

"She can't!" Myra butts in, pushing her way forward. "Make her eat all of it and she-"

Eric turns to Myra with one of the meanest and cruelest looks I've ever seen. She shuts up.

"Come on, Hippie," Eric groans. "Are you going to eat it by yourself or do you want to sit on my lap and have me feed it to you? I'll even make train noises."

A Dauntless born girl with long blonde hair looks at Eric in disbelief while her friends shake their heads. Even they are disgusted by his actions. Four sighs.

"Is this necessary?" He asks. "Their my initiates, not yours!"

"And I'm a leader, Four," he says, smirking. "Remember your place."

I pick up a patty. I almost drop it as I was shaking so hard. It touches my lips and my face starts to feel hot as tears finally fall.

_Pussy. Coward. Failure. _

Please, I beg, stop. Jesus, help me.

"Aww," Eric says in a bored tone.

I try my best to ignore him as I take a small bite. As soon as it touches my mouth I want to spit it back out. It's disgusting and all things horrible. As I cry more I almost choke on the small bite.

"Stop," Four says just as bored. He comes to me and takes the plate.

"Put it back," Eric says, offended that Four would even dare question his orders.

Four does like he has no choice. I coninue to bite, chew, and swallow. One down, nine to go. Tris pushes her way up to the front, grabbing Eric's arm.

"ENOUGH!" She yells, and Eric sighs, pushing her away.

"Shut it, Stiff."

Peter, Molly, and Drew are really the only ones enjoying my pain. I guess I would too if I were them.

I take a sip of water and start the process over. Bite, chew, and swallow. At this point my eyes can no longer make tears.

"If you make her eat them all," Will says, "she will get very sick. Elea's stomach can't handle it!"

"Why do they keep telling me stuff like I'm stupid?" Eric grins. "I know what I'm doing."

By the fifth bruger, I am sick and can't even chew. It's like our fall festivals when I ate too much apple pie. The room spins and I refuse to chew another bite. I can't even sip water.

"Eat it," he growls. "Eat-"

_Throw it at him._

I take the plate and chuck it the hardest I can before I could control my actions. It bounces off his head, and some burgers hit Four as well.

Eric nods like he approves of my actions. I'm dumbfounded as he pats my shoulder and smiles at me with a sinister look.

"Everyone back to their stations," he orders, and whispers something in Four's ear.

I stand there, confused while my eyes are buring and stinging. Did I miss something? I slowly walk back to my station, and Will and Christina take the one's next to me.

My stomach feels as if a ticking bomb is planted inside. Burning bile that could be mistaken as lava travels up my throat and my chin goes numb. I crouch over, holding my stomach for dear life as all the contents in my stomach spill to the floor.

AUTHORS NOTE! Thank you everyone for reading and favoring and following! Thanks to the two reviewers! Your support means so much! Please review.


	5. Chapter 5

**_AUTHOR NOTES: As always, thank you so much for your support._**

**_Guest: REALLY!? I have never heard anyone going out of their way to suggest my fanfics! Maybe they could drop a review?_**

**_But honestly, I am incredibly thankful for all my readers._**

The strong stench of vomit fills my nostrils making them burn along with my throat. Will and Myra were right. I am sick unlike ever before. My stomach feels like it's clenching, twisting, turning. My intestines fight for a relief and the shakes return. How bad I would love to stand, but the floor gives me the balance I need.

A rip of pain travels through my head. Never have I so badly wanted to pass out. Or better yet...die. I lay on the floor, the coolness of stone tiles soothing me.

My long hair sprawls over everywhere, and I have no doubt in my mind I laid in my own puke. The smell, oh the smell.

Everything aches and throbs. Flahes of my own life shoot through me before everything goes black.

I wake up in a bed. I wake up in my new bed, my hair wet and in new clothing. Did I shower? My eyes scan the dorm, and Peter sits on his cot throwing a small ball.

He looks to me, smiles, and tosses the ball away. To my dismay, he strides over to my cot sitting down. His hand touches my covered leg. He doesn't let me as I try to jerk it away.

"I must admit," he starts, biting his lower lip. "You're pretty nice under all that baggy clothing."

I get my way, scooting back, hugging my knees, staring at him wide eyed. He nods, eyes me up and down. Even clothed and protected I feel bare and exposed.

Did he see me naked? He nods, picking at his nails.

"I know what you're thinking," he laughs. "Drew is pretty mad that he didn't get to." Peter gets off my bed, pats my knee before leaving.

I rest my head on my knees and weep. That's all I can do. First I am factionless, and now Peter invaded my privacy. He invaded me. My mind starts to race, wondering and thinking what exactly he saw, and most importantly, what did he do?

I flop on my side and cry more. What else can I do? I'm too weak to move. Everything is over. I just want to die.

"Hey." Tris walks in and places a tray on my cot, and takes a seat on her own next to mine. "Here's some food. Just potatoes and carrots. Maybe you should try and eat because tomorrow is going to be long."

I can hear her, but my thoughts keep moving to Peter. I have to. I must. I sit up and look Tris in the eyes.

"Who showered me?" I ask, soft and gently. She smiles not making a big deal about hearing me speak.

"Christina and I just washed your hair and changed-"

"Peter told me he," I pause, choking on my own words. "Peter-"

"Peter must have been the worst Candor there was because he lied," she says, helping me up to eat.

I slowly munch and sip to help my upset tummy. Tea sounds really nice right now.

_I'm disappointed. How dare you talk to her!_

I'm sorry!

I wince, twitch, and ball my fist in frustration. Tris frowns, wiping my wet cheeks.

"Please stop," she says. "Tomorrow, okay, try your hardest because I rather pitch myself off the chasm then spend life in a faction with Peter and the two idiots," she laughs, and all I can do is smile and nod. But something hits me...I'm still in.

After I finish eating, the others pile in. Christina smirks. She's up to something.

"We're getting tattoos, do you two wanna come?"

Tattoos. Just one of the many things I'll have to face one day, but defiantly not today! I shake my head like expected.

"You need rest for tomorrow!" Al smiles, and turns to Tris. "Do you want to come?"

Of course she does, and now I am left here with Peter...again, but this time Molly and Drew are here as well. Why can't they want tattoos, too? I groan and roll on my belly. If I'm lucky, Peter will kill me.

"Hey, Amity," Drew says. "Did you enjoy your lunch?"

"I didn't enjoy picking it up," Molly groans. She had to clean it? I smirk to myself. I've won a war. Thank the heavens above.

They go on with their own torment, but since I know the truth from Tris it doesn't bother me. Just like the Amity girl jokes.

A few hours pass before they come back inked and pierced. Tris shows me the black birds above her chest, and I smile to let her know I like them.

I'm not sure what I'd get. Maybe the Amity tree or a cross? I shrug to myself. The only thing I do know is that I am going to wait and see if I pass initiation first.

What if I fail? Then I wear a mark of failure that I'll never get rid of!


	6. Chapter 6

Surprisingly sleep came easy, luckily causing the never-ending throbbing sensation to go away. It's nice to walk with a clear head after a long day. I could even get down a few slices of dry toast and a muffin. Coffee was still difficult no matter what Christina insisted on putting in.

The only thing I could drink, legally, was water, but I noticed quite a few kegs of beer in the corner.

My tongue swipes across my lips, and I practically drool thinking of the sweet sangria Mom use to make. When I was little I always snuck a little glass to only end up with giggles and hiccups. Beer wasn't allowed in Amity, but some of the guys carried small bottles of whisky.

In my teething days, Dad use to drip a few drops in my mouth, but apparently I was enjoying it a bit too much for my mom say enough.

And I could really use a swig now. It is far too early in the morning for my muscles to be knotted. Drew smirks at the very thing that makes my skin crawl.

Tris fights Molly, Al fights Myra, Christina fights Will, Peter fights Edward, and I fight Drew. I glare at him, and growl under my tongue.

"Don't hit him in the balls," Eric says, standing next to me. I look up. "People already think crude things about Amity girls. Instead," he smirk. "Instead I want you to punch him in the stomach and kick him in the head...hard."

I shake my head, moving over to gather my personal space. A gasp slips from my lips as he pulls my arm making me look up at him. He towers over my small frame like a monster from the books Mom use to read to me.

"Yes," he tells me with absolute sterness with aggressive undertones. He leans down enough for his hot breath to tickle my bare neck. "Or," he pauses, getting distracted as a finger slips under my bracelet. He examines it, his index finger running over the beads. "Elea," he says, pronouncing my name wrong.

I stand my ground, look him dead in the eyes, and raise a brow. The corner of his mouth curls to a wicked grin.

"Still not talking?" Eric combs my hair with his fingers, violating , tormenting. He knows more about me in the few days I've been here than I've known in my whole life. "The only way to defeat your fears is to face them. Including your inability to talk. Or how about animals? You love them. I just wonder how you'd act if I shot one right in front of you," he chuckles. "I can read you. It's a game for me. I loved watching you snap," he says, pulling away. "And I plan to get that little temper out from you every damn day."

My eyes follow as he walks away, chuckling to himself. A knot forms in my stomach along with a slight tingle. I bite the sore spot on my lip to keep myself in check. He talked to me as if I was a book he read and studied over and over. Except I don't remember him ever 'reading' me, or 'open' me for that matter.

What does he have against me? I frown and walk to the mat. Molly and Tris jump on the mat.

Molly is a tank. There is no other way to explain her stature. She's tall, wide in the shoulders, and rough. Tris is everything opposite of her. Even though it's not my time to fight, I observe.

Tris defends herself with her forearm as Molly makes the first move with a simple punch. Predictable. Agitated and annoyed, Molly attempts again, but Tris is quick, dodging it by swooping passed. She's sly, but not enough because Molly grabs Tris and thows her to the ground, and kicks at her stomach.

After awhile Tris gets back up, but Molly smashes her fist hard into her cheek. The fight is over.

Come on, Tris! I refuse to live in a faction with Peter and the two idiots!

Christina also looses, and so does Myra and Peter. I move forward and face Drew. Eric's words circle my head as Drew aims for my face, but I duck it. He tries again, but my foot trips him to the ground. He groans as I kick him hard in the stomach. Unlike Peter, Drew is weak and doesn't put up much of a fight. I kick him in the shin.

"Fuck!" He grabs my foot, twisting it.

"Gah!" I stumble to the ground, and soon he is on top of me, straddling my hips. I try to move. One of his hands holds my wrists above my head, and another punches me.

Shit, I hiss to myself as a harsh plow echoes throughout my head. He goes to do it again, but he unintentionally, even though convenient, loosens his grip. I push him off me, making me the one on top. I dig my knees into his sides.

"You stupid, whore!" he yells in agony, but his pleas don't stop me from punching him right in the face.

Getting up, I stagger a little before finishing him with a kick to the head.

Thank you, asshole Eric. He smiles with pride as if he made me. Like I am his child.

"Well done, hippie," he says, patting my back. I had won the fight.

**AUTHORS NOTE: I hate how this turned out, but hopefully you like it.**

**Hmm, I want to know how you all pronounce her name!**


	7. Chapter 7

I sit across from Tris at dinner starved as can be. But anyone could guess from the massive pile of cake, potatoes, and veggies on my plate. My taste buds don't process the taste and I don't even swallow everything before another spoonful meets my mouth. My stomach can't keep up.

Everyone looks at me, confused how I could eat two plates in about ten minutes.

"Are you alright there?" Al asks with heavy caution, taking a piece of cake as if I wasn't going to leave him any.

My stomach wants to combust with all the food, but I still feel hungry. Hungry for something but I cannot place my finger to it. I bite my thumb in anguish.

_This is why you're fat. This is why no one thinks you are pretty._

I bite harder. The Voice was strangely subtle yesterday. Tonight they make up for every last torment.

_But it's alright. They're stupid anyway. You should've sat elsewhere, alone._

I'm fine.

Blood seeps through the bite mark, and Will is quickly to snap me out of my world.

"I think I know what's wrong with you," he says, reaching his hand out to mine. "Elea whatever it is, it isn't real. Okay?" I yank my hand away, and get up, sneering at him before walking away.

How does he know what's real and what's not? He knows nothing.

**Narrative POV**

Will sighs at his failed attempt. All he wanted to do was help, but she completely shut him down. "I think Elea might have a very low level Schizophrenia," he says, taking a bite of chocolate cake. Christina snorts.

"That is low level...what?" Christina watches Elea walking up the steps.

"What is Schizophrenia?" Tris asks a little too loud to peak Molly and Peter's interest.

"She's crazy!" Peter laughs. Will interrupts Peter.

"It's when someone hears voices, but they aren't aware that it's not real-"

"And that's a low level?" Christina shakes her head in disbelief. "Whatever she is, she isn't low level!"

"People with severe Schizophrenia tend to be much more hostile," Will corrects. "If she has severe Schizophrenia I'm surprised she has even left her room in Amity!"

"Mm," Edward butts in. "Severely Schizophrenic people tend to be hostile, lock themselves away from others. Sometimes for days to weeks. In some cases they think that the voice they hear is their only friend," he says. Myra nods.

"The voice is usually mean or pushy," she says. "Telling them, the person with Schizophrenia, that they are useless, dumb, ugly, no one likes you, I'm your only friend," Myra says, nodding. Everyone frowns while Peter smirks.

"Really?" he asks. Will ignores him.

"Sometimes it's not that, sometimes it can tell them to do things, anything," he says. "Even murder."

Peter raises his voice.

"I vote to tell someone before-"

"I swear to God, you low life piece of shit," Tris says, hissing. "If you say a damn thing, I will kill you! Do you think this is-"

"Tris?" Al rubs her shoulder.

When Peter leaves, Tris can't help to glare as he walks away, calmly and cool like he owns every thing his foot lands on.

"Maybe we should tell someone," Christina suggest, shifting uncomfortably. Will shakes his head.

"Better to just wait it out," he says. "Elea hasn't hurt anyone yet. She's fine."

"I'm worried about Peter," Al says, accusing.

"Yeah," Christina agrees, nodding. "You saw the look he gave."

Tris stays quiet until dinner is over. Her hand grazes over her tattoo, thinking about voices and how maybe being here is a good thing for Elea. Maybe she could overcome her fear. Or her demons.

**Normal POV**

I sit on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest. The goosebumps on my arms made me realize it was a lot colder than I had thought. I gaze at the wall, pouting.

What did Will mean? He couldn't possibly, even as a past Erudite, have a clue what I go through. And I don't want to know his opinions, even with the digging curiosity in the back of my head.

_Maybe they were making fun of you?_

Probably.

_It's only natural, Elea. Even the Amity couldn't help but to gossip._

I believe you.

_Pathetic._

I rest my forehead on my knees ignoring the uncomfortable feeling growing in my spine.

I want to cry, but I feel like I've already done that enough. Everyone trying to diagnose me, Peter, Eric, everything... It is beginning to be too much for me. When will it end?

Eric. I think about him. I think about how he congratulated my win, how he humiliated me twice, and how he can stand so tall above me. Eric is tall, but so isn't most men, but something about his height makes me feel small. A mouse. I'm a mouse and he's a cat, tormenting me.

And what the hell did he mean by my temper? I don't have a temper, I think, hugging my knees tighter.

"Hey." I look up to see Peter wearing a look of sympathy. He bites his lip before sitting on Tris' bed next to me. He smiles softly, and suspicion grows in me. I shuffle away.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," he says, reaching for a strand of my hair. I let him, and he smiles as he touches it. "I am sorry, you know?"

I look him in the eyes. He has to be telling the truth. No Candor lies.

_He could be._

No.

His fingers caresses my cheek, and its uncomfortable.

"I wouldn't trust your friends, you know? As soon as you leave they start talking about you."

_Believe him._

"I know I'm an ass, but I would never say the things they do."

My eyes widen and I raise my brow. He frowns, tangling his fingers with my own. I let them stay like that, but it doesn't prevent me from shaking. I feel my breathing to tighten and my heart beat rising.

Touching is weird and I still don't like it. My body is stiff.

"Are you okay?" I nod. "Tomorrow, why don't you stick with me?"

I look down at our intertwined hands, waiting for the drop to fall. It does, landing on his hand, but Peter doesn't seem to mind.

The tear isn't just a tear. It signifies all the betrayal and heartache I feel. The few people I thought were okay and that I could possibly open to one day betrayed me.

_And this is why you're stupid._

I know.

Peter leans in resting his forehead to mine before placing a small peck to my cheek.

Startled, I pull away, puffy eyed and red nosed. I return to my safe place against the wall hugging my knees.

"Goodnight, Elea," he says.

Nothing more. He leaves me be in the comfort of my own company.

He touched me. His lips touched me. I touch my warm cheek and rub any evidence of him off. It's tainted. Peter doesn't realize how much he's ruined me in the last few minutes. I feel more alone and scared, but also dirty.

In the bathroom, I examine my face. There is no mark, but it doesn't change the one I feel on the inside. With warm water I wash the spot until its sore and red.

But I don't just feel dirty there, but everywhere. My skin crawls and itches.

Morning comes a lot quicker than I'd like. Peter wakes when I do and he insists on walking with me to breakfast. I'm not very fond of his company, taking many detours in the pit to lose him, but he's fast.

He sits next to me, one leg swung over, smiling as I sip at water. He caresses my cheek, the same one he made disgusting.

"Aren't you going to eat?" He handed me a corn muffin. "Here."

I hesitantly take it, eating it slow and aware. Molly sits down, and looks at me with one eye raised.

"Hi...?"

Peter swings his other leg over and talks to Molly. I lose interest and start watching Tris and Christina.

They smile to me and start talking. Figures.

_I told you._

Yes, I get it.

After breakfast, me and Peter walk to the training room. Peter points to score board.

"Look at that," Peter spits. "Edward got first, but I'm second. You're fourth!"

But you lost? You should be down. And four? I won! I am not happy! I look over at Eric while he calmly sharpens a knife.

Fourth.

Tris is last, dead last and I feel bad even though she doesn't care about me.

"And you're fighting Will!"

I look over at Peter and nod. Will looks upset and wary about the pairing.

"And you're going first!" Peter pats my shoulder to the point I stumble a little.

Will and I meet at the mat. He looks nervous, but smiles anyway. I shake with fury as Peter's words circle my head and don't leave. Also, the nerve Will has to act as if he's my therapist. I'm fine.

_Keep saying that._

"Go!" Four says, and Will does.

He's quick, slick with his movements as he throws the first punch. I move enough for the punch to graze my cheek. I try to do what Eric said yesterday, but Will trips me to the mat.

"Gah!" I scream out in agony as his foot collides with my ribs. I put my hand up unintentionally to make him stop, but he kicks me again til I roll over. Shaking, I clutch my stomach, coughing blood.

Eric doesn't say anything. Will doesn't kick me again as I get up. I swing my fist to his nose and then to his stomach.

"Shit!" he cries. I think I have the fight in my pocket until he slams his head into mine.

My vision doubles, before everything disappears and leaves me temporary blind. I feel someone pick me up bridal style, and carry me.

"It's alright," they say. "Let's get you to the infirmary, hippie."

**AUTHOR NOTE: thank you for reading and reviewing! It means alot!**

**what is Peter playing at? Hmmmm**

**Her name is pronounced Ella! :)**

**Happy reading! Please leave reviews. I liked writing this chapter.**

**PLEASE tell me what you think of peter, whats he up to, and how you felt about his action! **


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Thank you throtheralison for reviewing! And thank you everyone else for reading! XD **

**Warning: we all have different opinions of what is mature and what is not. So some things in this chapter might be a LITTLE mature.**

When I wake, there is an extra heaviness around me, but I can't bare to move and see. But I suspect Peter is there because only he is pushy enough to sit on the corner of the bed I'm on.

And to rub my leg, again.

"You awake?" he asks, but I don't answer. Instead I force myself to roll over on my other side, and pretend to sleep while peaking through one lid.

Eric is laying on the cot next to me, silent and cool while continuing to throw a ball up and down. Each time hitting the light and making it twitch and buzz.

"You really are a douche," Eric says nonchalantly, casually sitting up. He looks to Peter, raising his brow.

"What?" Peter asks, clueless and rudely. He amusingly scoffs.

Eric gets up, moves toward Peter. He easily lifts Peter by his shirt, smirking as the boy panics, shaking by his grip.

"Go," Eric says casually, pushing Peter toward the exit.

I'm thankful for that, releasing a deep breath of relief but subtly enough for I can still pretend to sleep. Eric can go as well, but of course he stays.

"You're stupid!" Eric says, pushing me over on my back. I sit up, pursing my lips. My arms fold, amused. Shaking his head, he moves to the corner of my bed. "You are going to make me gray! I told you what to do, but what do you do?" I blink, and Eric laughs in distressed. "Still not talking?"

Of course not. He rubs his temple. The bed bounces making my rib cage hurt as he stands, his fist balled and knuckles go white.

"You're the worst Dauntless," he says. "I may have escorted you here," he says, leaning close to my face, his hot breath making me tingle. "But that doesn't change the fact I'll ruin you," he says, and when I look away, he pulls me up by my hair.

Pain spreads around my scalp, stinging, burning, throbbing as his fist clamps tighter. "Say my name. I want to hear you say it," he torments, smirking.

Panic fills me. I start thrashing and kicking, ignoring the excruciating pain in my head and ribs. His body heavy against mine, he grins while his other hand travels down my chest, stomach, and to my hip. I try to push, but I can't get myself to scream.

His hand squeezing my sore hip I can only bite down on my lip hard and arch my back upward.

"Say it," he orders calm, but stern. He stops, but I soon regret it as his cold hand slips beneath my shirt. "I can play this game as long as you make me, sweetheart."

He doesn't move his hand from my stomach or from my hair. It's tormenting, violating, and most of all...invading me.

"You really want to sleep on pavement, don't you?" Now so close his wet lips tickle mine as he speaks. "Factionless sound nice to you?" His hand doesn't travel up my stomach, but down, a finger hooking under my belt loop.

I hate it, but I find myself subconsciously shifting my hips in his favor. He rubs above my belt getting a slight rise from me as a moan slips pass my lips.

"All you have to do is say my name." My body twitches beneath him. Enjoying it as he grinds his hips into mine, trapping my body in place.

The pain punches me making me shoot up. His hand helps trying to make me steady. It feels nice as he rubs my cheek.

But it doesn't last long as soon its replaced with a hard backhand. Shocked, I feel my tender cheek, the same one Peter had already ruined with his vile mouth.

I repeat what I did to Drew, but his leg tangles with mine. He smirks.

"Try again," he says, and I do with my other knee only for it to softly hit him.

But with my free hand I swing, punching him right across his smirking face. It's hard enough to throw him off his guard and loosen his grip. My knee now free, I shove it right into his hard stomach.

He stumbles off the bed, and stands up, getting his balance back. He smiles.

"That's my girl!" He slaps my leg in congratulations, leaving me confused. "Tomorrow we'll practice this again at shooting practice," he says as he walks away.

My blood boils as he leaves me unsatisfied. He angers me and affects me unlike anything else. I want him to go far and never come back, but yet secretly beg for him to stay.

It has been only seconds since he left but I can't stop myself from staring and narrowing my eyes at the entrance.

I hate you, I think, I hate you so much. I throw my pillow in frustration only to get agitated when it doesn't go far.

You stupid son of a bitch!


	9. Chapter 9

**Authors note: concerning Eleas weight. Yes, Elea isn't thin, but how chubby is she is up to you.**

**I want to thank Jessy Ann for her support! Please read, enjoy, review! Warning: 'explicit language below'**

I return back to the dorm room at six wanting to skip dinner. The pounding in my head, so incredibly terrible, made me wonder if I could ever get enough sleep. The bed wasn't soft even in the least bit but it was better than the flimsy cot in the infirmary. A bed of springs, I call it.

"You should eat something," Peter says, bored. I look at him before climbing under the next to useless sheet.

Peter walks over to me, and even though I am grateful for his friendship, he is the definition of annoying.

Leave me alone. I sigh, curling up in a ball, but it doesn't sit well with Peter. I grunt as he pulls me upward by my arm.

A cry of agony escapes my lips when he twists. Yanking isn't helping, but so isn't crying. It doesn't stop me, though. Peter scares me with his smile and cruel, painful grip. He pulls me close, so close it is suffocating. Tears burn as they travel down my cheeks, my eyes beg for him to let go. Instead he grips it tighter.

"Elea," he says, calmly. "I think you should eat something." I nod feverishly and he lets my sore arm go and wipes my tears. "Don't cry."

He walks ahead and I follow, striding up beside him. He pauses and turns to me standing taller and older. He shakes his head and pushes me behind him. Then we continue to walk.

My old friends eye us when we walk by and sit at another table with Molly and Drew.

Drew and Molly carry on with their own conversation about how awesome it was to see Christina grip for her life as Eric hanged her over the chasm. It's just like him to do that. It lit a fire in me as they continue to talk about Eric tormenting her. That's his thing, but my thing. It's his thing that he does to me...not her.

But I hate it. I hate the way he can do whatever he wants with me and when. He's a damn sadist.

I glare at him and how he drinks beer so nonchalantly with his peers. He smiles, and chats with a girl next to him. A growl slips from my lips, and Peter tugs on a stand of hair.

"Babe," he says, sweetly, but so fake that you don't have to be a Candor to sense it. "You okay?" He goes to snuggle into my neck, but I push away. He sighs.

"Hey!" I turn to see Tris, folding her arms, but smiling. She points to everyone. "Elea, we're wondering if you'd like to come-"

"Fuck off, Stiff," Peter says, answering for me like I'm incapable.

_Well you are_.

She ignores Peter, looking at me. All I can do is shrug and turn back to my food. I go to grab chocolate cake, but Peter stops me.

"You've had enough," he says, pushing it away. He squeezes my chub, and laughs. People look at us and he's matched Eric in humiliation.

Molly looks at Peter like he's done this to her, but Drew snorts. I feel sick and I want to cry again. Tris grabs my arm, glaring at Peter.

"How dare you," she says through gritted teeth. Christina and Al come over, observing the scene.

"She doesn't like you, Stiff," Peter laughs. He takes the few pieces of cake and puts them on the other side. He hands me a plate of carrots.

"You really are a conceited, narcissistic, evil douche," Al says. He looks to me and all I feel is shame.

_Where is that anger of yours? Hmm?_

I don't know.

Peter gets up and looks to me. I get up and follow him, but he doesn't like how close I am to walking in front of him.

He turns to me and pushes me a few steps back.

"Whores have a place," he laughs, and Drew follows. Tris pushes me out of the way before grabbing Peter by his shirt. "And so don't stiffs!"

Tris goes to punch him, but someone grabs her fist before it slams into Peter's face. I turn and see Four.

"Tris," he warns, shoving her into a seat. He looks to me and to Peter. "What's going on?" Four asks.

"Nothing," Peter answers, and looks towards me. "Right, Elea?"

Everyone looks to me, but I would be lying if I submit to him. There is something wrong and I want Peter to pay for it.

_Hit him. Make him suffer._

Soon I push him hard to the ground, and smile as I go to smash my foot into his stomach, but Four steps between us.

"CUT IT OUT!" he raises his voice. "What happened?"

I look to the chocolate cake and then rub my tummy. He knits his eyes, and turns to Tris.

"Want to translate?" Tris whispers in his ear as the shame comes back. He is silent and then, "I should have let her kick you."

"Whoa," Christina says. "I'm still lost!"

"Peter called Elea a whore," Drew says like it doesn't bother him. Rather it makes him proud.

I want to die. I sink down to the floor and hide my face. I feel a kick to my leg, a deep cough following.

"Dauntless, what the fuck you doing?" I peak and see Eric looking down at me. "Get up!" he yells. I do.

Everyone looks. Not just initiates, but the whole faction. Some laugh, some cat call probably knowing I was once Amity, and others just watch. He smirks.

A couple of guys whistle, but Eric puts a stop to it.

"Someone want to fill me in?"

Not again. I groan, rubbing my temple.

"Elea is a whore," Drew states, but Eric doesn't take it kindly. He walks to Drew and starts laughing like he agrees.

It kills me. And Al stands close to me. But before I know Eric's laughing turns into a punch. Drew cries as the impact throws him against the table. The Dauntless cheer, whistle, and hoot. But Eric isn't happy.

"Have I taught you nothing?" he asks, disappointment shadowing over him. He pushes past me, but the eyes around us linger.

"For what it's worth," Christina says, rubbing my shoulder. "I think you're pretty." She wipes my face with her sleeve.

That's what Peter said, but he lied. And so are you.

_They are. You aren't pretty. You're stupid._

_Stupid._

_Stupid._

_Stupid._

I know. I know. I KNOW.

"ELEA!" Will yells, shaking me. He grabs my hand, wiping the blood from my palms. I must have cut myself with my nails. "Stop, okay?"

I nod.

I'll stop. I'll stop being here. I've had enough.


	10. Chapter 10

My feet pound against hard pavement as I run. It matches the fast beating of my heart. I quit. I'm done. My tears are freezing cold against my skin as the bitter air hits my face. I sigh of relief as I reach the dumpster. Dizzy and famished, I slid down against it. It may smell something horrible, but it gives me the rest my body needs.

My lungs burn, longing for the inhaler in my pocket, but my body shakes to the point I rather suffer than move anymore.

Other Factionless look over at me with eyes of hunger. Then they go back to digging into the other dumpsters. I would be lying if I said I wasn't scared of them. They're terrifying and crazed.

_Haha, you quit._

Yeah.

**I knew it. You're so dumb, pathetic. You're going to die**.

The Voice goes on and on, but I've already used every last bit of energy I had. Even energy I never knew I had.

After awhile I start to feel my eye lids grow heavy and stiff that they can no longer stay open. My heart rate slows and my body grows limp as I submit to sleep. Soon realty turns to the foreign lands of my subconscious.

When I wake I expect to find myself on cold, hard pavement with flies swarming over me and pebbles indented to my arms and cheeks. Instead I find myself snuggled up in warm, thick blankets filled with the scent of musk. The bed I rest on is not hard, but plush and the air around me is nothing but cozy and warm. I'm content for a second until it hits me. Where am I? Why am I here? What is this? How is this? I sit up and pinch myself for a reality check. It feels all too real to be fake.

I'm not even in the Dauntless dorm, but a suitable living space. A nice apartment that has actual light and fresh air. It's wide, nicely spacious. Too nice. I'm too much at peace.

I swing out of the bed, my bare feet hitting cold stone. My eyes travel around trying to pick up something to give me a clue. Nothing.

Until it hits me. I'm wearing large clothing that aren't mine and the smell is all too familiar. Musk. His musky cologne. My eyes finally land on a small picture placed neatly on a nightstand.

I pick it up, my fingers caress over the image. I smile at the small family it shows. They smile back wearing glasses and blue. The clothing of the Erudite. There's a mother and a father, but they don't matter to me. It's the small boy with slicked hair and chubby cheeks. Eric. My finger repeatedly runs over his image. He was handsome as a child. Most can't say the same. I know I can't. I was ugly. Still ugly.

"Sleep well? Assume you did because you didn't wake one bit." Instantly I jump, dropping the photo on the floor. Quick and nervously, I scramble to pick it up.

Smirking, Eric leans against the bathroom door, his arms folded over his bare chest. A blush tints at my cheeks.

He wears nothing other than boxers. Even though I'm bashful I can't stop my eyes from peaking at my leader. He doesn't seem to mind as well. Eric looks at the clock.

"It's about 7:40," he says, bouncing off the door frame, and grabbing his clothes. "You should get down to breakfast."

I nod, looking around for my clothing.

"You're gonna have to wear some of mine until yours dry," he says, tying on his boots.

I smile because his clothing is breathable and moveable. And smell insanely nice. I sniff again. He raises a brow.

"Fucking kidding me?"

I grow redder and quickly make my way to breakfast. I find my usual spot next to Tris and sit, but it's not the usual gratitude. Christina gives me a not so welcoming look, while Al and Will awkwardly poke at their food. Tris sighs.

I look at her, but she turns back to her food. That's when I notice that multiple people are looking at me. Some whispering, and others glaring. Mostly from the Dauntless born. The girl with a half shaved head rolls her eyes at me.

Am I missing something?

It makes it hard to eat, so instead I sip water until Four comes by to our table. He also looks at me before speaking to all of us.

"We aren't shooting today, we'll be fighting again," he says, and before he walks away, he gives me one last glance.

A tall black kid follows him, and sees me. Stopping in front of me. He smirks, winking.

"Hey, Amity," he laughs, but Four looks back at him.

"Come on, Zeke," he grumbles.

I look to Tris with wide eyes, but she only knits her brows with sympathy.

"We need to talk," she says.

As we walk, there are multiple whistles and hoots thrown our way. I'm relieved when we reach the training room. Tris brings me to a corner.

"Elea, why were you in Eric's apartment last night?" she asks, frantically. I don't answer. "Answer me!"

"Nothing,"'I say, but she eyes his clothing I wear.

"People seem to think differently."

We can't finish our conversation because Peter comes in. A smug look plastered on his stupid face. I glare. He shakes his head.

"I guess I was right about you," he says, but I give him a look of confusion. "Rumor is that you're sleeping you're way to the top."

I choke on air as I hear the ridiculous rumor. I don't like being touched. Everyone knows that! I'm a complete virgin with limited desire. I hug myself and feel everything get warm. My breathing pitches, and I know what is coming.

"It's a rumor," Tris says.

"Something says otherwise," Peter says, looking at my clothing. "Those look a bit too baggy, even for you!"

Peter leaves, but is soon replaced with the girl with a shaved head. She's followed by the same two people who cringed as Eric made me eat meat.

She folds her arms, and growls.

"Is it true?" she spats, but the boy interferes.

"Lynn, leave her alone," he says, his eyes traveling. The blonde girl does the same.

"Shut it, Uriah! We're Dauntless and I'm not gettin' kicked out because she's a pig!"

The blonde girl awkwardly focuses on her hair.

"It's a rumor, trust me!" Tris says. "Elea doesn't even like being touched."

Lynn huffs, stubbornly storming off. Her two friends spare me another look. I feel naked as the boy's eyes linger on my most personal areas.

Tris tries to calm me as I can't catch my breathe. Crying seems to be the only option, but no tears form. I wheeze and gag. Breathing is difficult and my inhaler is no where to be found.

Tris is quick to help me to the ground. Without her selfless guidance I would have fallen. Holding my knees, I rock back and forth. People stare. The Voice talks. I panic.

It doesn't stop as it repeats the same things over and over. My eyes squeeze tight, and I soon lose the world around me and go into one filled with scrutiny.

_You're dumb. Dumb. Stupid. Pathetic. Loser. Haha. Stupid. No one likes you. Dumb. Dumb. Ugly_.

"Stop," I whisper, covering my ears. "Make it stop!" I scream.

And then I feel tight hands grab my wrist and pull them away from my ears.

"ELEA!" Four is a blurry image I can just about make out. "What's wrong?" he asks, softly.

I don't answer. I can't answer. I can only close my eyes, silently cursing Eric for the pain he caused.

He should have left me alone.


	11. Chapter 11

"You blacked out," Eric says, sitting on his desk, looking down at me like I'm a toddler. This morning I felt comfortable, but the wrinkle across his forehead, tightness in his jaw, and a hard look in his eyes make it hard to feel safe right now.

He tosses my now dry clothing at me, and walks over to the door. I hear a click. I ball my fist. He's locked me in.

"Change," he growls, and I stand, looking at him. His back leans against the door, guarding it more than necessary. My cheeks feel like lava as I'm put on the stand. He raises his brow. "Shy?" he snorts, rolling his eyes. "Change. Four's waiting for you, initiate" he says. I despise the fact he doesn't look away, but deep down I know he's already seen me in my underwear.

He's seen me half naked, I think, disgusted. I look away, trying to discreetly change. Shaking, I slip off his shirt. Cold air tickles my tummy.

"You don't have tattoos," he says, thinking. He's looking. Actually looking.

Don't flatter yourself.

Fast, I put on my shirt and pants.

He grabs his clothing, but he doesn't move when I go to leave. Instead he grabs me by my shirt, lifting me up a little.

"Next time you flip out," he says. "I will bring you right back to the dumpster, do you hear me?" I nod alarmingly, and step back. "Good."

He hands me an elastic, but I push it away only for my denial to be met with frustration. He forces me back down into the chair, and grabs my hair.

"You should wear it up, especially since Four told Al to grab your hair when you fight," he says, harshly shoving my hair into a bun. I can see from the reflection on a cup that it's ugly. "I want you to cut it," he says, sighing. "But you love your hair, don't you?" He pushes the chair around making me jump forward into him. He shoves me back in. I look down, but quickly look back up.

He takes my wrist, observing the bracelet, slipping a finger under it. He smiles.

"It's cute," he says, sweetly. For a split second I think he's being genuine until my heart breaks like fragile glass. He carelessly yanks it, the small beads that read my name bounce across the floor. Tears finally form as I watch the brown yarn drop. The last thing I had. The last thing that means something. He took it, broke it.

"You're Dauntless," he growls, slapping me across the face. It stings, but doesn't hurt me like the lonely bead that reads 'e' does as it lays right near his foot.

Why? Brave doesn't equal cruel.

He wants me to react, I can tell at his silence and the stiffness. I can't, I won't. I need my bracelet. My wrist feels far too bare now. My nose runs and I effortlessly wipe it on my shirt. How can an Erudite turn into this? The man who stands before me enjoying the site of my pain.

"It's a bracelet," he snaps. "Get over it!" He yells in my face. But I only cry harder, looking down at my lap. I sob painfully into my hands.

He kicks my chair hard enough for me to fall to the floor.

"Get up," he orders, but I can't. I don't have enough strength. "Get up or I'll drag you out."

I'm still, my chin twitching and my throat stiff from all the crying. My head pounds while everything aches. Just aches and throbs.

"Initiate!" He yells, his boot slamming into my bad hip. Agony is an understatement. Hell. This must be the true meaning of hell.

"Stop crying," he growls through gritted teeth.

'Stop' I mouth, the word stuck in my throat. I need him to stop. I need help.

"You can't even say stop," he laughs maniacally, shaking his head. His face drops, and I feel a thrust of pain smash into my stomach.

"Stop," I say, barely a whisper before everything goes black...again.

Jesus, help me. Take me. I no longer want to be here.

After I come through I am no longer in Eric's office, but surrounded by my friends in the training room. Four nods for me to get on the mat.

"Let's go," he orders. "You've rested all day. Let's go!" I stand and stagger to the mat a mess.

Al is ready for me, but with just one punch I will die. He will win. Eric's pain is still there.

I get dizzy as Al throws a punch, but he doesn't hit me. It misses by a mere centimeter. I force myself to stand up. I protect myself as I swiftly kick him to the ground. He throws me with him, and climbs on top, but he doesn't do anything.

"Hit me," he begs in a whisper. "Hit me really good and I'll pass out."

I take his offer and punch him the hardest I can. He collapses and Four calls the fight to an end. I've won.

Dinner comes quickly and Tris tells me about how she fought Molly. I can't help to smile when she told me she beat her to a pulp.

"She wouldn't stop!" Will says, amazed. Christina nods.

"It was pretty awesome," she says.

I bet it was. Just like Drew's black and blue face. After eating a little, I softly lean my head down and rest. I need to leave this place for a little. I'm done for now.

**AUTHORS NOTE: I seriously pulled teeth writing this. It took me awhile to get it right. I still hate it. Eric is an ass, but he'll soften soon. Im not happy with . Thank you for all your support! :)**


	12. Chapter 12

I hate running. There is not much else I can say other than my lungs burn and my knees feel like jelly. The small pebbles vibrate under me as we run in a mob. I'm last along with Al and Christina. Which I highly think it's because of my wheezing.

When we stop the Dauntless born laugh at us; I'm red, wheezing. My lungs clenching for any bit of air they can get. Drew falls to the ground in exhaust while Al and Christina lean on each other for support. Will, Edward, Myra, and Tris drink their water like it's a rare delicacy. Peter tries to stay cool and calm, but I see through it. He's just as pathetic as the rest of us transfers.

"We'll rest here," Four says, taking a seat on the ground.

The Dauntless born joke around, but the rest of us are still dying.

I stick my hand into my pocket searching for my inhaler. A pang stabs me in my chest, I frantically search more, but it's no where. I swear I put it in my pocket. I look around, on the ground all the way to the sky. No where.

My chest stings and I can't breathe. The air is humid. I try my best to calm down, but it's hard because I literally can't breathe.

"Looking for this?" Peter smirks, leaning against the tree. He holds it to me. Desperately I try and grab it.

"No, no, no," he says, shoving it in his pocket. I plead for it. "I'll give it to you, but only if you do something for me," he suggests.

I nod feverishly. I will kill someone for you just for a hit. The hit, I need it. Now.

When I was young Mom taught me how to breathe easy and prevent an asthma attack. I was stupid. I could really use those tips, but I can't remember a damn thing! Water. I didn't bring water.

Stupid, I think.

"Meet me at the chasm at lunch time," he says, bored. I nod, barely listening. I sit nicely on the ground before sprawling across the grass. He throws my inhaler at me and I've never taken a hit so fast in my life.

"You okay?" Tris asks, laying next to me. I bob my head. Barely. She gestures at Peter, looking questionably causing me to realize he's done it again.

Usually lunch comes at a dreaded, sluggish pace where I ache for it to arrive, but today it comes fast, unexpected even. I can see Peter waiting for me, picking at his nails. Ghostly and morbidly, I walk to him. He turns to me and greets me kindly. That scares me.

"Hello, Elea," he says, leaning against the railing.

I can feel Jesus shaking his head as I secretly pray for the railing to snap, sending him to his death. Will I go to hell for this? Is this the kind of stuff bible study warned me about? Hate consumes you. That's what they use to say.

I take a deep breath ready for him to lay whatever he plans on me. I'm ready. The inhaler is worth this. Cocky and confident in himself, he walks to me, close and personal. Everything I hate. Peter leans in, smirking as his lips gently touch mine. My first instinct is to push him, and I do, but he's stronger than me. My lips tickle as he chuckles. Dirty and disgusting. Kissing is gross, and I want him to stop.

Was this the deal? Was this suppose to be simple? It's torture. I groan and moan unhappy against his lips trying to fight this awful invasion. Sick, I feel sick as his wet tongue swipes across my bottom lip. Granting him the entrance he longs for is the last thing I do.

"Can we expect you tomorrow as well, Jeanine?" My eyes pop open as the Erudite leader and Eric turn the corner. Their eyes plant onto me and Peter.

Peter planned this. Peter knew. And Peter knows something. Something I don't and it bothers me.

I push harder, but Peter doesn't give. Instead he kisses harder. So hard it hurts as my teeth dig into my lips. He pulls away, satisfied.

Awkward, embarrassed, humiliated. I try and straighten myself, but the way Jeanine stares is scrutinizing. It makes me feel bare and open like a book. She looks to Eric, who is not pleased.

"I'm sorry, Jeanine," he says, his bottom lip twitching. He glares at me. His eyes cold, his face hot. "She's been warned. Elea use to be Amity."

I mimic his facial expression. How dare he! Been warned? Amity? How dare he! Mortified, I try and forget that Jeanine is there. But it's hard as she nods.

"Well, Amity are quite an unusual group. I'd suggest that it'll take a bit of time for her to learn boundaries," she replies, studying me. I choke on air.

Me? Learn boundaries? How about...how dare he? Eric nods. His eyes still cold and cruel.

"We'll be working on that more," he says. "Won't we, Elea?"

Panicked, I can only nod. Peter has left me for bait. Lost, I go to leave, but Eric grabs my arm like he does.

"Shooting practice," he says. I nod and make my way obediently for the roof trying my best to hold the anger and humiliation I feel.

How dare he. And Peter. How? Why? He waits for me, laughing.

"Erudite," he says. "Come same time, leave same time." We walk together, our shoulders uncomfortably bumping each other. "I did it because it's a joke...haha..funny?"

What was funny about that? I glance at the drop as we walk on the tricky steps.

If I push him, would that be funny? He goes on and on about my face when they saw us that I'm about to scream. All the way to the roof.

Four shoves guns at us and a serious thought pokes my brain. Shoot Eric. Shoot Peter. A sadistic smirk forms on my face.

The gun feels heavy and chilling in my small, chubby hands. It's weird to hold and against everything I've ever believed in. Four effortlessly shows us what to do. I try and keep up, but damn!

Four, slow down. Please. I keep messing up, getting frustrated. For a quick second I debate flinging it and seeing if that works.

But he is watching. Eric. I look over at him holding a bundle. I study it, watch how the towel in his hands move. What a bastard. He wouldn't. He will. His words circle my mind.

"How would you feel if I shot one right in front of you," he said. The gun slips from my hands, but it doesn't bother me as well as Four's nagging.

Eric smiles, waving me over. Staggering, I walk over. Tears already irritate my eyes. As I get closer, I before I can no longer handle it. He hands me the bundle.

"For you," he says, gesturing for me to look under. Hesitantly I do, my fingers shaking as I lift the towel.

I gasp as a bunny with big, innocent black eyes stare into my hazel ones.

I look up to Eric, who nods, rubbing my shoulder.

"I found him, he's yours!" Mine? Really? I giggle to myself thinking just Maybe Eric is okay.

Will eyes us suspiciously, whispering in Tris' and Christina's ears. But I'm too focused.

"Are you alright?" Eric asks, scratching the bunny behind its floppy ears. "You seem tense, Elea," he says, looking at me. Biting his lip, Eric brushes my bangs out of my my eyes.

He chuckles when I hug and snuggle the bunny close to me. Animals are my favorite. The only things that breathe and don't judge me. It tickles as the bunny sniffs my nose.

"You love it, don't you?" His thumb lifts my chin and rubs my tainted lips. "Huh?"

I nod and kiss the bunny's head. I love it already.

"Good," he says, smirking. He grabs the bunny from my tight grasp. And shoves a gun in my hands. "Now shoot it."


	13. Chapter 13

"Shoot it," he repeats sternly, his arms folded over his chest. Me and the terrified rabbit lock eyes, I feel it's pain piercing me as I hold the gun in my hands.

Why? It has done no wrong. I look to Eric. My pain is his satisfactory gain. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. Everyone watches with eagerness, anxious to see what I do.

A Dauntless would shoot. An Amity wouldn't. What is my true place? Deep down I know it's far too late to ask these questions, but they dig and pry at me.

"Sweetheart, we don't have all day," he says, bored. My gun drops. I will not shoot the bunny.

"No," I say, shaken. I'm not confident in neither my actions nor the words I speak. Eric steps behind me, pulling my hair back. I shutter as he leans in.

"So you do talk." He smirks against my bare neck. People start mumbling and gossiping when his arms slide around my waist.

A moan escapes me as he plants a tormenting kiss in the nape of my neck.

"Pick the gun up," he says. I do. "Good girl."

The tears return making my eyes blurry and itch. With a swipe of his thumb, he wipes some of them away. He's gentle.

"If you don't shoot it," he says nicely. "I will make you."

Four steps up and says, "Eric, is this necessary?" The two men share hateful facial exchanges before Eric grabs my gun and points it at the rabbit.

The rabbit wouldn't have a clue. It's innocent, loving, and I can't bare to watch. The gun clicks and I shut my eyes waiting for the shot. I jump as Eric stands back behind me.

"Here," he says, making me hold the weapon. He makes me steady as he holds it with me. "Is this easier for you?"

I shake my head. Nothing would ever make this easy. Eric chuckles sniffing my hair. His lips travel down my jaw line. My eyes are closed at this point, trying to stop the crying. Make him think I'm strong.

_But you're not._

"I'm strong," I weep to myself.

"Hm?" Eric asks, amused. I'm strong. I can do what's right and be brave at the same time.

"I will not shoot," I say, putting on a tough front. He holds me tighter as I attempt to shift myself.

"Say it," he moans in my ear. People are watching. People already think too much.

"No."

I will never speak a mans name. Especially his. Be brave. Be strong. The sun blinds me as I finally open my eyes.

"Did you say his? Peter's?" This is what this is about.

"No." He loosens his grip, and I take it to my advantage.

I elbow him straight into the stomach, grab the gun, and slam it straight into his chest. Sadly it isn't enough for him to fall. But he trips a few steps back.

He wants that, doesn't he? I point the gun right between his eyes. Amused, he pulls out a small pistol. He laughs and before I can react, Eric pulls the trigger.

My fellow transfers stand in disbelief and exchange looks of shock. Eric grabs me and makes me look at the horror. I try my best to not process the brutal image, but he holds my jaw tight.

"Say it," he hisses.

"No," I sob. My body meets an unbearable pain as it slams against the hard surface.

Agonizing, excruciating, teeth gritting pain shoots through my hips and ribs. Hard, I bite down on my lip. Must not scream. I double over and clutch onto my stomach. Four rushes over, kneeling down and examining my face.

"Eric," he says, putting his hand up. "Enough."

Eric stops, but I will not. With tear soaked eyes, blood sleeping from multiple cuts, I look up at him.

"You're a coward," I say. "A damn coward! I know Amity and Abnegation braver than you."

We stare because that's all that there's left to do. Eric shakes in ways that I thought was impossible for him. His jaw grows stiff while the muscle in his right temple pops.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" I scream. Four tries to calm me down, but I'm far too gone for that.

_Good. Hurt him_.

I sit up, pushing Four away. Getting up is hard, but I force myself in effort to look strong. Gasping, hissing, groaning, I stagger over to him. Eric stands tall.

"Initiate," he says, ignoring my request. He steps to me, lifting my chin up. I'm quick to slap it away.

But it doesn't stop him from doing it again.

"Smack me again," he says. "I dare you, sweetheart." I do. He laughs, rubbing his cheek.

"Don't call me sweetheart."

"I will call you whatever I please!"

Then I swing my fist right into his left cheek. Hard.

"I dare you," I reply.


	14. Chapter 14

Authors Note: I just want to say thank you for your support! Please read and review! Also know a lot if events are out of order or different, buy I don't want to go by the book/movie word by word.

When I wake up my first thought is 'thank God'. A new day awaits me. Amity are good for that. I'm no longer Dauntless. I'm Amity wearing Dauntless clothing. I love peace and I love love. If Dauntless means killing the innocent for the benefit of being brave, I am not Dauntless. Peace for my mind, peace for my soul. Nothing else, nothing more. War is over. Hate is over.

I frizz my hair a bit, just like Amity. I wear a lose shirt and baggy pants. If red and orange were allowed I would wear it. Not black. I refuse to submit to these people...to Eric. With all my strength, with all my power I will defy him.

Screw their beauty standards of tattoos and piercings. I will stay pure and natural. Never will I shave or wear make-up. Amity now, amity until I die. Never Dauntless.

At breakfast I sit crossed legged on my seat with a plate on my lap. I hum a tune, a folk song widely admired by the Amity. The others stare but let them.

"Oh, let the rain fall down, oh let rain down," I sing to myself. Dauntless listen to me. I can't sing good, but so can't the farmers that sing these folk songs. I start to clap my hands until Tris grabs my arm.

"Elea, are you okay?"

Ignoring her, I continue singing and clapping to myself. In Amity, I hated doing this, but now it seems crucial. Al hums a little with me. Good. Defy them. Betray these people.

Peace is not cowardice. It takes a lot of strength to be peaceful. Soon they will learn. Soon he will learn.

We watch each other from a distance. He isn't pleased with me. I can tell by the way Eric's jaw tightens and his muscles twitch. I continue to clap and sing. Later I will make a new bracelet and he will not break it. If he does, I will make a new one. Then also make Tris, Al, Christina, and Will one as well.

"She's bright today," Will comments, I smile at him the best I can.

These emotions have always been hard for me. Laughing was strange, and when I did laugh it was usually quiet and to myself. Never out loud. The same with smiling. Of course the Voice on rowdy days usually forced me to stay sealed to myself.

Yesterday they were quiet, today I await torture. Sooner or later they'll speak, but for now I have to focus. Will nods.

"Are you okay?" Christina asks. When I don't answer, she groans. "You were talking yesterday!"

"Talking about yesterday," Tris says, patting my back. "That was great what you did to Eric-"

"He's a dick," Al interrupts. "And what was he doing touching her like that? Gross."

"He kissed you, does that bother you?" Will asks, frowning. Tris hugs me tight and Christina rubs my arm. Smiling, I nod.

"He's got something on you," Al says, turing around and looking at Eric. Eric raises his brow, and folds his arms.

I'm in trouble for something, but at this point I could sneeze and he'll hurt me.

Today we are throwing knives. Great. Throwing knives sounds completely safe and a great idea! I eye Peter as he hits the target no problem.

I envy him as all I hit is the wood surrounding the target. And they bounce. Me and Al are the only ones who keep missing.

I throw another as hard as possibly can to only get frustrated. In aggravation, I kick the leg of the table. Throw again. Miss. Throw again. Miss. I groan to myself, itching my scalp. Four comes over and grabs a knife. I watch as he hits and sticks perfectly.

"Throwing too hard," he says, nudging me to throw again. I do, but this time I throw lighter. Too light.

What the fuck. Damn. I bang my head against the table.

"And you wonder why Eric busts your balls! Throw again," he says. Hesitantly I do, but this time it sticks.

I smile to myself. Even though it missed the target. Eric walks by, and I wait for him to say something snarky, but he doesn't.

Al still hasn't gotten one and now he's out of knives. Eric glares down at him.

"Pick it up," he orders. Al looks at Eric and scoffs.

"Are you kidding?" Eric raises his brow.

"Afraid?"

"Of walking in front of knives? A bit," he nods. Eric moves in closer, and I can see Al flinch.

"Watch how you talk to me."

"Watch how you touch people!" Eric laughs out loud, obnoxiously. Please. Why can't there be one day without this.

"What?"

"Elea, I don't like the way you touch her." Eric's face hardens at the mention of my name.

"Everybody stop!" He demands. Everyone has already stopped. We watch anxiously. "Just for that I want you to stand in front of the target until you don't flinch."

I can see Al shake in fear as he slowly makes his way to the target.

"Stop!" Tris says, stepping forward. Eric narrows his eyes at her. "Anyone can stand in front of a target, but it doesn't prove anything!"

"Then you'd be willing to take his place?"

Tris and Al switch spots. When Four grabs a knife my heart beat calms. I trust him unlike Eric. Eric might 'slip'. Tris doesn't flinch one bit as Four throws the first knife. Eric smirks.

"Why don't you give her a little trim?" Four nods, and I leap as the knife lands an inch above her head.

Then within a millisecond Four throws a knife so precise right next to her ear. She does not jump. Tris is perfect. And she better climb up the latter, but Eric doesn't like her.

How can she still be last, and I'm still fourth? Eric. I look him, scowling. Why am I fourth? I should be down more. He spares me harden look, and walks over.

"Meet me in my office at lunch, hear me?"

I nod like a little mouse. I'm not strong. I was wrong. He's got me like I am his puppet. I hate him.


	15. Chapter 15

Reluctant and hesitant, I make my way to Eric's office. It feels more like a death sentence where my feet are like stone, but I can't stop walking. Every bit of my body knows what to do except my mind. It can't seem to process anything, and everyone zooms past me while I'm in a twilight zone.

_This is your fault. Your fault._

This is my fault, I agree, continuing to make my way to reach the fate that awaits me. My bruised hips and ribs throb at the memory. Images of Eric's foot colliding with my fragile body flash through my mind. He's going to hurt me. He's going to kill me.

Soon I'm face to face with a black metal door. Too soon. I stare at the door knob, my heart pounding against my chest. Sweat trickles down my temple.

I knock all too anxiously. That's when a familiar deep voice calls for my entrance. The door knob feels cold against my unsteady hands. Twisting it was hard.

"Sit," Eric says simply. Surprisingly he sits in his chair behind the desk. Like a principal. Professional.

I sit down, and he slides me a form. I gasp as it reads in big bold letters:** Human Resources**. The first question strikes a nerve. **Has someone made you feel uncomfortable in the workplace**? A hard lump forms in my throat and I can't bare to swallow.

"You can fill that out, Elea, if you wish," he says, his tone bored as usual. He hands me a pen, but I put it right back in his cup.

Why is he doing this? What is he planning? I give Eric a look, my brow raises. He nods to the paper.

"I'm sure you'd love to sign it," Eric says, leaning back. He casually chews the tip of a pen. I shake my head.

I hate you, I think, but no way am I stupid to fill this slip out. I crumple it within my cold, stubby hands. He chuckles, amusement in his eyes.

"Elea." I watch as he sits up and tosses the pen. He leans in, folding his hands. "Let's get something straight." He stands, walking around the desk to me. He hoists himself on the desk, and I can't help but to eye his legs. He lifts my chin, our eyes now leveled.

"I think you're attractive. There is no other way to explain it. I find you nice looking, but I also find other women nice looking. Human nature. But you already know that, don't you? Amity are well equipped with that knowledge.

"But my actions are in no way due to the fact your stubborn and tense personality make my pants tight," he says, bored, hinting a bit of sarcasm. My cheeks grow warm and I choke as his crude words linger in my mind. "I push you because to make it in Dauntless you have to be strong. I'm trying to make you grow thick skin, do I make myself clear?" I nod, distracted with the prior statement, and watch as his hand rubs his thigh.

Then pout as he jumps to his feet.

"You should get back to training," he says, opening the door.

Like a ghost I stand in a daze, floating to the exit. Chills run over me, goosebumps forming as he places a strong hand on the small of my back. He gives a throaty chuckle while I...tense.

Your stubborn and tense personality make my pants tight," he had said. My eyes unintentionally drift towards his lower regions.

I catch myself and shake it off as if I was looking to the ground. He doesn't spare me a glare.

"Problem? Cold shower maybe?" He narrows his eyes at me. And I shift uncomfortably, looking to the bookcase behind me. "You can leave if you wish, but seeing that you're standing here enjoying yourself," he says flatly, closing the door.

I go to open it only to find myself slammed against the hard surface. A pang rings throughout my back, but I don't even have a second to process or think before Eric leans into my face and his lips crash into my own.

A tingling sensation fills me from my toes to my head as his warms lips kiss mine and his tongue swipes across the bottom, begging. I don't kiss back, I can't kiss back.

All I can do is think. I think about Peter and his meaningless attempt and how Eric's is different. While hard, his lips are also soft and soothing. I don't like it, but yet I start to find myself closing my eyes and leaning in. Softly, I moan against his lips granting him entrance. Subconsciously I stand on my tippy toes and slide my arms around his neck.

Then only to whine when he pulls away. He looks into my eyes, softly and gently with a twinkle. Soon his Dauntless clothing turn into Erudite. I see a boy who wears a kind smile and not a smirk.

An Erudite smile, but still a smile. I take it and keep close to my heart.

He plays with my hair, curling a strand with his fingers. Eric's body makes me feel warm while we're close. Why are we close? Why do I like it? I rest my head against his hard chest and hug him tight like a child. His hold on my hair grows tighter and he stiffens.

I'm left confused as he pushes me off roughly, grasping onto my arms tightly. He snarls at me and I now see the Dauntless man I hate.

I try to free myself from his harsh grip, feeling betrayed and alone as usual. But he wins.

"Go!" he snaps, opening the door and throwing me out. My body hits the railing separating me from a drop that would lead to certain death or paralyzing injuries.

When I look back to him, he slams the door shut. I have every desire to march back in there until I notice I'm late for training.

* * *

><p>"You're late," Four says not particularly disappointed or concerned. I nod. "Did it go alright?" he asks, his eyes finding my red arms.<p>

Ignoring him, I walk over to Tris and Christina. Tris comforts me as she puts her hand on my shoulder then remembers to remove it. Christina gasps, grabbing my arm in worry.

"What did he do to you?" she hisses, her finger caressing the sore spot. I pull away and take my jacket from around my waist and put it on.

Will and Al walk over, but Al starts to intrude right away. I feel annoyed as he goes on and on, but part of it is my own fault. Eric stopped kissing me. While I enjoyed his touch and begged for more, he found me repulsive. Because of that I feel ugly more than ever.

You are.

Self conscious, I fold my arms around my chest. Peter and Drew smile at me, but Tris drags me over.

"They're losers," she says, fixing my bangs. She smiles softly.

"Christina and Elea, you're up," Four says.

Me and Christina move to the mat and that's when it starts.

Hit her.

Hurt her.

I wince and rub my head.

Hit her.

Hurt her.

In pain, I clamp down on my lips. Christina watches me unsure of how to hit me or if she should make the first move.

Kick her. Punch her. Hurt her. Make her bleed.

Christina slowly changes into a dark shadow casting over me. She's no longer human. She is no longer there, but It is. A monster with a dark face and red eyes.

Hit It. Hurt It. Hit It. Hurt It. Kill It.

The Voice hisses at me, and I do. I ram myself into it. I punch the devils face over and over until my knuckles grow sore. It's long fingers scratch at me and pull at me.

It cries beneath my strength as punch again.

"Stop!" something yells, pulling me away from the creature.

Until the creature is no longer a thing, but a human. Christina. A gasp slips from me as I watch her in agony. I did that. She barely holds on until she passes out.

"Good job, Elea," Four says, patting my back. "You won."

First the Voice, and now I'm seeing stuff. The Voice has to be real. It is. So isn't that thing, right? I glance at Will as he helps Christina up.

I shrug it off and sit down. Usually I try and watch the other's fight, but I can't bare to as Christina hurts next to me. I frown at her, but she smiles, giving me a thumbs up.

* * *

><p><strong>An: I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I try to italicized 'the voice', but ff isnt letting me. I'm still on mobile, sadly!<strong>

**I have 16 faves, 27 followers, and 50 reviews! Thank you so much.**

**I was wondering if most of 16 faves, 27 followers can answer these questions for me:**

**What is Eric's deal? What do you like most and hate most about my fanfic? Anyway I can improve? What do you think of my Peter? And other than Eric, who do you ship Elea with?**


	16. Chapter 16

My blurry dream is disturbed by a bunch of yelling and banging. I spring awake, sweat dripping down my temple and my chest heaving up and down. Eric stands with a few Dauntless, and he looks down at us before landing at me.

We share equal glares that don't go unnoticed.

"Everybody up!" he yells, flashing a light in our eyes. Especially mine. I squeeze them tight.

I get up and blush as Christina shamelessly stands there half naked like it's nothing. Eric's eyes linger on her long tan legs and fire starts to form in the pit of my stomach. I shuffle in front of her and he glances at me before sighing.

"Stiff!" he snaps, she slides off her bed, and stands. Shaking his head, Eric continues, "you have five minutes to meet us by the tracks. We're going on a field trip!"

Quick, but dizzy, I get dressed and dart right out behind Will and Al. Christina and Tris tail me.

The air is cool, chilling and dark. My eyes travel around the familiar setting as if they were foreign before landing on a box of paintball guns.

Great! I think. Just another thing for Eric to hit me with. I grab one and stand by Tris waiting for the train.

"Time estimate?" Eric asks. Four looks to his watch.

"Still haven't memorized the schedule? Any minute," he says, flatly. Eric grumbles, shoving Four a little.

"Don't have to," he remarks.

Four was right as the train rumbles in the distance. The lights bright and blinding as it arrives. One after the other we jump on. Al grabs me as I stumble into him.

"Alright there?" he smiles, and I nod. Eric coughs obnoxiously enough for me to turn. He rolls his eyes.

"Ok," he sighs, bored.

"We're playing capture the flag!" Four says. "It's Dauntless tradition."

"Four and I are captains," says Eric. "Transfers first?" Four nods. "Edward," he says.

"I want the Stiff," Four says. Tris widens her eyes while everyone laughs.

"For you can blame her when you lose?"

"Something like that."

"Peter."

"Christina."

"Molly."

"Will."

"Al."

"Drew."

Me and Myra are last, and I start to feel embarrassed with myself. Myra smirks when Eric calls her name.

"Elea's on my team," Four says. Eric's face hardens.

Eric and Four bicker a bit about who to jump off first. It's not until I feel Will pushing me off the train unto the ground that maybe I blanked out.

"Pansy cake!" A Dauntless-born laughed, but she immediately helps me up. Marlene, I think.

"She doesn't talk," Will says, and I feel like we've been through this too many times.

"We know-"

"Focus!" Four says.

At Will's orders we walk toward the marsh making our way to the Navy Pier. Mom once told me it was a lake with beautiful fish that would swim with mermaids. And that merchants who would 'sail' it would fall into their traps and die. Wasn't a nice story, really.

I start to hum a tone to myself. It was said to be a merchants songs.

Will and Christina bump into each other. Kind of how the Amity use to. There hands connect, but quickly pull away.

"We're close to the Erudite headquarters," Will says, with sadness. "Just a little bit south."

We walk across an aged bridge protecting us from the marsh. Would I sink into mermaid hell if I jumped? Sorry, Jesus. I quickly form a cross over me and continue walking.

"Are all pansycakes that religious?" A Dauntless born asks. I keep walking.

We enter a setting of disaster. My boots crumble glass and pieces of cement.

When we reach the carousel, Four takes our the flag.

"We have ten minutes to find a stop to hide it," he says, looking to us.

Will suggests that some stay and guard while others scope out the other team. Eric's team. A growl catches in my throat.

Marlene snaps at him losing her flirtatious self. Then Christina defends him. Will's plan is good. I agree with it.

I start searching for a vantage point until Tris voluntarily walks to the ferris wheel and Four follows.

Losing interest I settle to a horse. It's beautiful, but old. My fingers caress the porcelain. I smile, climbing on it. Ever since I was little I wanted to ride a real horse. But Mom said only men can because they use them to lug barrels of fruit.

"Are you humping it?" Christina snorts, adjusting her paintball gun. I grin.

All I was doing was pretending to ride it, but everyone's reactions told me not to. Instead I swung my legs over and sat on it like a regular chair.

Everyone perks as Four and Tris returns, but an older girl growls, folding her arms.

"Did you turn on the ferris wheel? Huh? Great! Just-"

"We got them," he interrupts her.

"Because I swear if I lose one more time I will flip," she hisses.

"Wait, what do you mean?" another Dauntless speaks up. Four grins.

"Tris climbed the wheel and caught the other team."

"What do we do now?"

Four explains the plan and I follow behind my friends holding my gun to my chest. It feels heavy in my hands and cold against my chest.

We continue to move to the right, trying to be cautious and steady. Everything is so quiet that breathing seems too loud. I clamp down on my lips to stiffle my hitched breathing.

Then to my dismay, we run. Multitasking I take a hit of my inhaler, dropping it and losing it. I swear under my breath, but force myself to keep going.

Then we slow down until we spot a glowing flag. I smirk.

Christina leads the way.

That's when yells knock us out of our thoughts. We grip our guns and point in every direction. I see a shadow in the distance and go to shoot until Uriah stops me.

Paintballs start shooting, but we get easily to the unguarded flag. Christina grabs it before Tris can. Her face glows with happiness and pride as she waves it. Uriah cheers and I can't help but to smile, hugging her. Willingly hugging her.

We won. We won! Eric lost.

**Authors Note(PPLEASE, PLEASE READ): If Eric were to have a child, would he rather a son or daughter? Me and friends were talking about this for some reason. To be honest I don't like this chapter. What do you think will happen in the next? Thank you all so much for your reviwews.**

**Theotheralison: you will love her fear landscape. Can't wait to write it. 13 fears of holy crap whackyness. Can you take a guess at a few? Just random gueses!**

**Catch39: yes Peter is, and Eric is such a meany! I like how you perceive Al. :] I want your opinion, what do you think Elea would want for a tattoo?**

**And thanks to Jessy Ann, Jmiranda56, Saphina, and Divergentgleek.**


	17. Chapter 17

Peter's weight on mine, legs on each side of my hips. His monstrous hand wraps around my small, fragile neck and squeezes. I'm already a mess wearing a swollen lip and bloody nose. All my effort was destroyed by a single blow to my head. I feel half dead by the time he squeezes tighter, black dots ruining my vision. I go to hit Peter, but it's soft, like a careess. He's amused.

"I like this position," he says, loosening his grip, but it's still there. "Beg." Dizzy, I shake my head.

This fight is not ending with Peter winning. Well, it will, but not by me being submissive. Peter 'tsks', raising his bruising fist above me. Everyone watches knowing there is only so much more I can take. My head throbs with excruciating agony, everything spinning. I squint at Peter, his eyes turning red. His fist plows right into my numb cheek.

"It's easy. Just say," he pauses, leaning in. "Peter, I quit." He smirks against my split lip. "You're at my mercy, bitch." With that I try hard to use my knees, but he is sitting on my stomach. I squirm and cry beneath him.

My arms are weak, they hurt and hitting him has already proven more than useless. He holds them above my head. A bruise forms by his harsh grasp. He draws blood digging into my flesh with his nails. I bite my tongue trying suppress any kind of cry.

"Cry," he says, pouting. He releases one of my wrists to trail a finger down my neck, between my breasts to my stomach, and back up.

I flail and kick more.

"Peter! Stop!" Christina yells, infatuated.

Four observes us. He's allowed our last day of fights to be a bit more brutal than usual because Peter has had me like this for eternity, or so it feels. But he is right. I'm at his mercy, and he's already riled up from this morning. Taking Tris's towel must have activated something sinister. Something perverse. He smirks down at me.

"Ready to surrender? Seeing as I already fucked up that nice face," he teases through gritted teeth.

"Peter, you've won!" Al says. "Now get off her." Al surrenders the fight for me. I'm not pleased. Peter staggers off me, glowing with pride.

Al helps me up. Angry, I glare at Peter and go for it. I knock him on his back and repeat his pain by wrapping my chubby fingers around his neck, squeezing tight like a crazed animal.

I'm fumed. Anger like I've never felt, and the Voice is pleased.

Kill him.

I grip tighter, cackling as his eyes get wider, agony filling them. He moves uncontrollably under me, begging and pleading for me to let him go. He can't breath, red turning to purple. "Elea! No!" Al yells, pulling me off. He tosses me to the ground, and helps Peter up as he coughs and grasps onto all the air he can.

I get up and punch him in the face knocking him a few steps back.

"Good job, hippie!" Eric says, walking in at the last minute. He nods in approval until Peter does the same, this time finishing the fight.

I fall into Al, losing the fight.

Molly and Tris fight like Peter and I. It was just as brutal and inhumane as Tris can't control her shaking fist. Four even has to break it up, but Tris doesn't lose the look of bloodthirst.

"Stay away from me!" she screams at Molly. Who is now passed out.

"Elea," Peter says, standing next to me. Immediately I react by balling my fist. He chuckles. "It was a good fight. You did well," he says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I must admit," he pauses, leaning into my ear. "Your temper really is a turn on. I like it."

Eric watches him with a great deal of interest, folding his arms and his pierced brow raises. Peter looks over and backs off a few inches. And Eric softens, pleased with himself. He strides over. He studies Peter, looking over with distaste.

"Didn't he call you a whore?" Eric glances back and forth. "A fat whore if I remember correctly," he says, finally landing his eyes solely on me.

But you pained me more, I think looking at the man I longed to hug and find comfort in. Him pushing me out is fresh in my memory. I want to ask him why. I want to feel his touch, his caress, his lips pressed against mine. I don't want to be left on edge anymore.

I hold onto Eric's arm urgently, but he shoves my hand away. Multiple people watch, including Peter. They anticipate for him to do something. Instead he pushes past me, leaving like what happened didn't matter.

Maybe it didn't. Maybe he was just needy.

Peter is quick to beat Tris and Christina at my side. He places my hand in his. He gets agitated by my defiance, holding me harshly in place.

Is this a crush? Is this how boys act when they like a girl? In Amity boys resorted to gentle teasing and jokes, but maybe other boys do this. Does Peter like me? I look to him.

We've been here before. It didn't go well, and I'm not fond of his physical advances. Especially the one he put on Tris. My hand twitches awkwardly in his sweaty one. I have no choice, but to let it stay.

"Be my girlfriend, Elea," he says. Almost immediately I shake my head. "I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. I see the way you look at him. I was Candor and we are practically mind readers. Eric wouldn't want you, so stopping wanting things you can't have." His words are bitter, and he spits them like they taste horrid on his tongue.

I don't like Eric, I want to say. I despise him. I may like his touch. No, I crave his touch, but that doesn't change the fact I hate him.

"So, Elea, you're my girlfriend," he says, determined. No.

"Stop," I whisper, pulling my arms away. This time he sets me free.

"Okay," Peter says, simply. And I'm not sure if I like it all that much.

He smiles sweetly to me.

"I think your eyes are pretty, hate to see anything...happen to either of them." He leans in and kisses my cheek. "A few days from now you'll sit on my lap, kiss me, hold my hand. Willingly, too."

No. I shove him to the side and quietly make my way to Tris.

"Hey!" she greets, smiling. Christina waves with Will wrapped around her waist.

I nod.

"So tomorrow is visiting day!" Will says, not particularly happy or upset. "Do you think your parents will come?"

I haven't thought about it yet. Will they? It wouldn't be right for an Amity not to show. It'd be rude, and uplifting the peace. I miss Amity, but I miss my parents more. My Mom's apple pie was so delicious! And my Dad always kept a flask in his jacket. I wonder if they still do those things.

Hopefully I will find out.

But then there's always the chance they won't. My Dad's didn't. He transferred to Amity from Abnegation.

I have never told Tris that. Would she care?

My Mother was Amity born, but her parents died way before I was born. Were they beautiful like her? Probably. My Mom is incredibly beautiful, and I envy it. Dad is a bit different. Handsome at one point, but now he's a bit worn. But they're happy and honestly great parents who raised me with an unbelievable amount of love and sacrifice.

But what did I do? I left them and maybe they no longer love me. I don't blame them. It was mean of me to leave when they were so great.

If they do come I might never look at them. I will be too heartbroken.

I will be too much of a disappointment. To them. To the faith they brought me up with.

Jesus, please forgive me. I form a cross over my chest discreetly and whisper a prayer. Hopefully I haven't committed a sin too great because it sure feels like I have.

**Authors Note: Peter's at it again! May seem annoying, but this is such a turning piint and literally where it all begins! :D does he actually like her it just obsessed? Hmmm**


	18. Chapter 18

Ten soldiers in a line, I think as I stand with the other transfers wedged between will and Myra. Eric paces before us, back and forth, back and forth. His hands neatly folded behind his back, and head held high. He looks like a general, an overconfident general. His eyes scan over us, lingering a little longer on me. I don't dare look down no matter how much I want to.

"Visiting day," he says, turning on his heels. He stands before me. I can feel his body heat radiating off of him he's so close. I back a step. "If by some miracle your parents do show up, which I highly doubt, try not to act too close," he says, taking a step forward. His chest is barely half an inch away.

I look down. Thankfully he doesn't seem to care. Instead I can't even feel his cold eyes. But he's close. I want him close, but not in a way so public and open.

"It will be shameful. Very shameful, and I won't be pleased," he says, putting emphasis on his words. I wait for his fingers to roughly grab my chin, but they don't.

"Fraction before blood. Something we take very seriously here."

It happens. I yelp as his fingers tug at a strand of my hair. My hand swats his away. As he backs off I'm left surprised.

"Initiate." His voice is low, but calm. I look up and give a simple nod. A gesture of my full attention. "I suspect you'll remind your parents that you're no longer Amity, correct?" I nod. "Correct?" I nod again. "Are you just nervous, flustered that I'm so close to you?"

I'm panicking now, but my body feels warm. Anxious for something. The sensation of butterflies corrupts my tummy and forms tiny goosebumps on my arms. His body is once again close to mine. Others watch. I want them to leave. It's already bad enough that this sudden urge of intimacy with another is filling me. He leans down not happy, but I'm so lost in the fact his body is nearly glued to mine. It's torture as his lips are almost touching mine, but he can't kiss me. I want to kiss him badly. Get rid of all the taint Peter's ruined me with.

"Or are you just fucking stupid?" Eric. That is the Dauntless Eric.

Erudite Eric is a bit softer. Still nervous to show feelings, but doesn't hide behind a tough, hard shell. My eyes glance away at his hands and then arms.

"Elea," he growls under his breath. I shake myself from this awkward trance. His eyes are now softer, but still stern.

An Erudite look.

I nod, and softly say, "Sir." My agreement to his request. He seems to forget he teared my last bit of Amity off. My bracelet. Only my...my hair.

He hands me an elastic band and I comply with his orders. My long hair is now strung up in a neat ponytail. He gives a simple nod of approval before walking out. I take my hair out of the ponytail and go in search of my parents.

They aren't hard to find. Red and orange clothing in a sea of black. My heart skips a few beats and my breath gets stuck in my throat as they look at me. Their smiles are wide and kind. My Dad opens his arms.

It takes a lot of strength for me not to run to him. Or cry. I want to cry. Instead I walk to them slowly. My Dad urges for me to hug him, and I want to.

Dauntless.

I look around me and no one is really caring. Quickly I hug him and then my Mom.

"Oh, Elea!" Her voice is soft like mine. Gentle and caring. It makes everything around seem sweet. Her smile is bright. "You want to sit? Yeah?"

Together as a family once again, we sit on the ground. It isn't as soft as our home or the outside. It's cold and hard. Mom nods in approval.

In moments like these I notice how young she is. Her hair, like mine, is dark and long. Bangs cover her hazel eyes and beneath them shows little aging. She's pretty with her chunky cheeks while I'm like a wild chipmunk hiding nuts.

I giggle as her cold hands hold my own close to her chest. Dad rubs my back in a comforting manner. Then places a small peck on my temple. His breath has the familiar smell of whisky and smoke. I like it.

I like how they haven't changed. My Dad with his long blonde hair tied in the back, two teeth missing, rough hands, dirty shirt, ripped jeans, and scoffed boots. He's your typical Amity Father and I miss it.

And he does! I look and around and see his flask.

"Now tell us everything," Mom says, combing my hair. I nod.

"Well my instructor is nice," is all I can say. Four stands with Tris and her Mother. "And our leaders are a bit intimidating. And I've met friends!" Mom kisses my cheek.

"That is wonderful," Dad says.

"I'm not very fond of the food, though," I say low and discrete. Mom frowns, fixing my bangs affectionately.

"Well, you must try to understand your new faction, dear," she says, placing a kiss to my cheek. Dad grumbles in agreement.

"I don't think I can eat meat," I say.

"I was afraid of this," Mom says in a normal motherly tone. She digs deep in her bag and hands me a small plastic container.

Apple pie. Her apple pie. I hug it close to my chest before hiding it in my coat. For later.

"What do you have there, Elea?" Dad asks, touching my bruised neck. Mom does the same.

"Dauntless training," I say, fixing my collar. "Do you want to meet some of my friends?" I ask in effort to distract anymore questions.

"Oh, yes!" Dad says, pulling me up and spinning me. He's always done that. Then polity helps my Mom up.

"Elea, are these your parents?" Elastic bands rain over me, and I feel a strong tug at my hair.

"Mom, Dad," I say, turning around. "This is a Dauntless leader." Eric sighs. Probably expecting a proper introduction.

You will not win, I think. Your name will not slip from my lips. He stares at me, usual bored look and arms folded.

"You're quite young," Mom giggles, her long fingers trailing down his bare arm. Eric shifts, grinning widely. His ego probably growing. My Mom was always this way. Just another way we are different.

"Cindy," Dad says, grabbing her hand gently and holding it.

"He's cute," Mom whispers in my ear, wiggling her eyes.

" I'm Eric, Mrs," his voice polite. He looks to my Dad and gives a strong handshake. "Eric, sir."

"Jonathan."

Eric stands straight, his arm snaking around my waist. He pulls me close and squeezes my hip. I squeal, jumping. But his hand stays there with a sturdy grip as if I was falling. My Dad eyes the hand for a second until Mom nudges him.

"She's a great fighter," Eric says. I stiffen. My parents exchange looks of worry. Eric knits his eyes, but in a mocking sort of way. "Issue?" Yes, there is!

I stubbornly push away and straighten my jacket. Eric's smirk changes to a twisted grin.

"I think she'll make it here just perfectly. See, she has a temper. Nearly killed a boy yesterday. Did she tell you? It was impressive. Don't you think? Or are you hippies too focused on orgies and the pot secretly growing in your backyards?"

I choke on air and hold on to Eric for support. Did he? He did. I cough trying to regain posture. He looks proud of his cruel comment and continues.

"We've been training her to be more, well, formed to society."

My parents aren't taking it too well, trying to keep their tongues bitten and fist in their pockets. Mom wipes her teary eyes on her orange tunic.

"Did I strike a nerve?" Eric asks, chuckling. He looks at me waiting for an answer. His sarcasm is unbelievable.

He's struck many, many nerves.

My Dad holds my Mom, hugging her.

"It's alright, Cindy, remember our prayer group this morning? Do not judge our neighbors by their words."

"For maybe they had a bad day. We must pray for those in pain for they can lead a pleasant life," she says.

"Lord Jesus Christ, our savior-"

"No need to pray for me. I'm quite happy with the life I live," he says. "Are you?" he's snide. He grabs my arm. "Elea, we have some personal training."

My parents look down at their feet, shame casting over them. They were always happy and bright, but within seconds Eric humiliated them. I pull my arm back.

"No," I protest, untangling elastic bands from my hair. His chest puffs. And my Mom places a soft hand to my cheek. A warm smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.

"You should listen to your leader, Elea," Dad says, linking arms with Mom. Together they nod. Eric sneaks his arm around my neck. He's pleased.

"Let's go," he says, smirking.

Our walk to his office is awkward. Too silent even for me. The way his arm stays hanging over my shoulder, his steady breathing, and how he so calmly walks. I'm stiff against him, tense while his massive hand squeezes my shoulder.

We reach his office. It's cold as usual. A loud fan rattles above. It would annoy me if I had to listen to it all day, but it doesn't seem to bother him. Weird things bother him. Like my long hair. I can sense he wants to bring scissors to it.

Or my quietness. An unusual Dauntless trait. We aren't suppose to be silent, but loud. We aren't suppose to be cruel either, but that doesn't stop him from flinging initiates over railings and shooting rabbits.

"Take a seat." The sudden hostility in his voice shocks me. He isn't pleased. Of course not. I defied his order. I sit trying to focus on anything. Even the markings in the wooden desk.

Eric grabs his pocket knife and plays with it; twirling it around his fingers like nothing. He even presses down on the tip. I can't help but to watch from the corner of my eye. His stiffen jaw and intense glare unsettles my stomach.

"You're fucking stupid," he says bitterly. "That's it? Right?" I don't answer causing his knife to skim my head and stick to his desk. I huddle in a ball, holding my knees to my cheek.

"Don't start crying. I swear, Elea," says Eric, leaning to my ear. "You cry like a baby, I'll treat you like one."

He puts my hair up and grabs the knife. I'm frozen in a trance.

"No," I stutter, wanting to jump up and run. I've had the same hair since I was child. It's a part of me. It is me.

"Elea, it's time for a haircut," he says flatly. "Stop shaking! See this as a lesson. Don't want to listen to me? This is what you get! Don't think about fighting. This isn't another game. I'm serious. You sit in this chair and take your punishment," he pauses for second, and I feel cold mist squirt against my neck, trickling down my neck. "You sit there like a good girl."

He sounds like a twisted person. His actions are Dauntless, but his words are sickening. Like the day we practiced shooting. I twitch in my chair not liking the way his cold fingers feel on my neck.

"You're a soldier." His voice is a little more calm, but the way he holds my hair makes my scalp burn. "Act like one. If you wanted limited discipline you should have stayed in that shit hole."

"Amity," I say sternly. "Amity."

"Pussyville," he corrects. "No better than fucking stiffs. At least they have the decency to wear clothing. Hippies all butt fucking naked in the fields doing who the hell knows what."

"Working. Unlike you who does nothing, but bully-"

"Elea, what was your test results?" he interrupts.

"Dauntless."

"Did you kill the wittle doggy," he teases, chuckling to himself. "What did you do to the man on the bus?"

I don't answer. He shouldn't be asking. Test results are private with good reason. In response to my silence he raises his knife. My eyes close just when I feel the sharp blade cut through.

"There! All done," he says. He barely cut anything! Maybe half an inch. My dead ends maybe? He turns me around and says, "meet me in the training room at twelve. We need to practice your knife throwing skills and we don't need others there."

Author note: PLease review. II'really want to know what you think!

Guest: I am sorry! :( Just wait a few chapters and things will get going.


	19. Chapter 19

**VERY IMPORTANT Authors Note: THIS CHAPTER HAS A BIT OF MATURE SCENES! IF YOU DO NOW WISH TO READ OR ARE YOUNG PLEASE SKIP AND READ LAST AUTHORS NOTE! :)**

Eric waits by the table, leaning coolly against it. The wobbly legs shake under his weight. He is causal and calm. One leg crossed over the other. We share smirks, but I assume the intent is different. He pushes off the table, and we meet halfway.

"Your knife throwing sucks." His words are blunt, but I agree with them. Nodding, I slide past and walk to the table. I grab a knife.

It feels uneasy in my hands. Like it doesn't belong in my sweaty palm. My finger brushes against the cool steel blade. Its sharp edge scraping at my callused skin. A small trickle of blood runs down my finger. It didn't hurt. I barely felt anything.

Eric grabs my hand in his, clicking his tongue in disappointment. It's as if I'm a small child foolishly touching objects I shouldn't. He wipes the blood on his shirt, shaking his head. He amazes me as he doesn't yell. Instead he's quiet as he observes the small cut on my finger. Erudite, I think as his eyes look focused as if my finger was the only thing in the room.

Blood continues to flow through the cut. He sighs and keeps a light compress. It's only a small cut, but he tends to it like it's life threatening. Surprising for a man who once kicked me incredibly hard. Maybe he hates blood.

"Tomorrow is your ranks," he says, dropping my hand and taking the knife. We face the target at a closer range. "You're getting scored on this. Do well, alright?"

I stand, knife in hand, arm back and foot forward. I throw it. It only bounces off the wall, an echo circling the completely silent room as it clatters to the floor. I rub my temple, but he's quick to shove another in my hand.

"Try again." Eric is patient.

This time the knife I throw doesn't even make it to the target. It slips from my clumsy, unsteady fingers and falls a foot away. He chuckles.

"It's okay, Elea," he says smoothly, and walks behind me. His hand rests on my back. "Stand straight. Don't slouch. Throw again."

I do. And it hits closer to the target. Just doesn't stick. His left hand slides around my waist pulling me close to his chest. My legs grow limp and I feel my cheeks beginning to go hot and red. His other hand finds its way to my hip, his fingers curling tightly around my sore spot. I hiss.

"Still sore?" I nod. "Good." He laughs a throaty laugh, and rests his chin on my shoulder. "Throw again."

My attempt fails as a cold sensation knocks me out of focus. His hand sneaks under my lose night shirt, and travels up a bit. The knife lands to the right of the target next to my own. I moan as he leans into the crook of my neck. He mutters words I can't quite make out sending a small vibration through my neck.

"Remember, Elea," he groans, gripping me closer. My back flat against his hard chest. "You're getting score on this."

He tugs at my hair enough for me to look up. There's a look in his eyes that I've never seen. It's foreign to me. I pout and tilt my head.

"I thought you hated being touched?" His voice hints at arrogance. It's like he's won a secret game he's been playing where I was completely unaware. He's right, though. I hate being touched.

Just not by you and I think it frustrates me. I try to squirm away, but he holds me in place. One of his legs wrapped around my trembling ones.

"You want to throw another knife?" I pick one back up, and his cold, wet lips find their way back to my neck.

I moan, my pulse beating harshly and my chubby fingers tense and cramp. My lip throbs as I bite down to suppress any noise that may slip. The feeling of him gently placing small kisses around my neck is exhilarating, but nerve wracking. There's always the chance of him getting me all the way to the edge then stopping. He can't. Please don't. I tilt my head to give him more access, urging him to continue.

"Throw it," he whispers, his hand roaming more beneath my shirt.

I do, but I am far too tense and wound up. He stops kissing, and snuggles his nose into my hair. I feel him smirk as a hand finally reaches one of my most sacred areas. I wiggle as he caresses my breast over my bra before giving it a light squeeze.

"Throw the last one."

This time he stops. And I throw. It sticks, and it's enough to earn another kiss to my temple. I stare at the knife an inch off from the target.

"You'll get it some day," he says, hugging me again. "Nonetheless I am pleased," he chuckles, kissing my jaw. I smile at how gentle it is. "Say it."

I sigh and shake my head. He groans, turning me to face him. Amusement in his face as he says, "serious?" I nod stubbornly.

"Fine!" he laughs, stepping back. He bows a bit. "Have fun finishing yourself off!"

In other words: go 'f' myself. I blush and pull a few strands of hair over my face.

"Or maybe your new boyfriend will help you?"

"Huh?" I gasp, looking up at him. My eyes wild with confusion and shock. I fold my arms over my chest, uncomfortable and disgusted with myself. He sarcastically pouts.

"Did I strike another nerve?" His laugh is sinister. "Struck a few within the last day, haven't I?"

I grow annoyed and frustrated, and go to leave. His hand catches my arm and pulls me into a quick, but soft kiss. It happens so fast. So abrupt that I can't process his action until he pushes me away.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he snorts, walking out, leaving me there. I touch my lips, and feel the tender skin before smiling to myself.

The next night we all stand around Four as he holds the board. Our rankings are listed on the other side. He's at ease sitting on a nightstand and a black marker shoved in back of his ear. I had been number four for the longest time, but there is still that pain in the pit of my stomach. The thought of being Factionless scares me.

He explains more in depth about our training and how we are scored. I lean on the wall for support. Peter smiles and makes me lean on him. My mind lingers on Eric's words. Then Peter's.

I can't decide which one is worse. But Eric's disgusting words were caused by Peter's actions. I go to push off, but then I catch Four's eyes.

Eyes. My eyes. I'm tense against his body. It isn't like Eric where I want to be touched. With Peter I am my old self. Shouldn't I like him for that? But I hate him immensely for touching me and manipulating me. I hate Peter more than anyone.

"Elea," he hisses, pulling his hand away, shaking it. "We have to work on that," he whispers, holding my wrist. I must have squeezed his hand too hard.

"We will announce the cuts tomorrow," Four says. "It doesn't matter whether you are transfers. You will be ranked together. Four of you could be cut. Or four of them could be cut. Or any combination." He stands up and turns the board. "Here are your ranks."

I glare and push away from Peter. How dare he. My fist ball and my jaw tightens. He has some nerve! Eric. I scowl to myself and read over.

1. Edward

2. Peter

3. Elea

How dare he! I don't deserve my rank. I can't throw knives. I lose just as much as I win. I shoot good, yes. But I don't deserve third place. Hell! I didn't even deserve fourth. I deserve sixth or below.

And he knows it, I think. I shake my head and then it really hits me.

"You're getting scored on this," Eric had said. What the hell was I getting scored on? Not my damn knife throwing!

"How did Elea get third?" I hear Myra ask quietly. But she is right.

I push my way out of the dorm because I rather die than be made a whore!

He will not get away with this!

Whore. Slut. Pathetic.

You're ugly. Worthless.

The Voice in my head goes on and on. I pause to take a breath, but instead I find myself punching the stone wall.

"Shut up!" I yell. No one is around, and I'm thankful. My fist burns with agony and blood covers my knuckles.

Worthless. Whore. Fat. Ugly. Pathetic.

"Shut up," I beg, weeping. I slide down the wall and cry as I hug my knees. "Please, somebody help me."

"Elea?"

**AUTHORS NOTE: (sorry it is so long) ** please, Please review! I liked writing this chapter! XD Mostly because Eric is showing hints of jealousy.

Who do you think just joined Elea? Isn't Eric, I'll give you that.

What do you think Elea feels about the other initiates? Christina, Will, Tris, and Al!

LIZ: Thank you so much for your review. I will definitely take your tips! :)

And obviously thank you to my other reviewer. I am very appreciative! :) And for the recap: Eric and Elea were alone and practicing knife throwing. He was kissing her(and stuff) and at the rankings, she found out she got 3rd. She believes it had something to do with what they did and now the voice is acting up! :)


	20. Chapter 20

"Elea?"

"Stop! Leave me alone," I whimper to myself, shaking and rocking. The air around me is tight; hard to breathe and my chest stings. I can't cry. My eyes are too sensitive. My head will split if I cry anymore. Everything is spinning.

I try to stop It from speaking anymore, yelling at it in my head and blocking my ears. Nothing helps. Blood dries over my knuckles, but trickles down my face. Banging my head didn't work, either.

Worthless.

"Stop," I plead, pulling my hair. It's so cold and I feel so lonely.

Pathetic.

"Please!"

Useless.

"No. No. No!" I scream in agony, thrash my legs about and my scalp burns. Stands of hair fall around me.

"Elea!" Strong, big, but boyish arms hold me in place. Al. I can smell a strong lemon scent.

"I'm cold," I whisper. "Useless. Worthless. Pathetic." He shakes me, and makes me look at him.

"No," he says, smiling. But he's wrong. Wrong! I push him away. I don't want to be touched anymore.

I want to be left alone under a tree, my bare feet being tickled by grass and my hair blowing in the wind. Amity. I want to go home.

"I want to go home," I mumble, biting my thumb. "I want to go home!"

"Elea, you need to calm down-"

"I want to go home."

"You are home."

He annoys me with his comfort. I want him to leave. I seek help beyond him. But it's wrong of me to think like this. Polite and peaceful, I think.

"Thank you," I say simply as I'm lost in words and my thoughts are fuzzy. And I'm too weak to fight.

"See? Just relax."

He makes me rest against the wall. It's cool against my throbbing flesh, and actually calming. Not like the sun or the fresh breeze. But it does okay. I try to steady my breathing. My inhaler is lost outside. Probably damaged and unusable.

"Are you okay now?" Al wears a cheeky grin, and I nod. "What had you so freaked?"

I don't answer. Expected. Instead I stare out into to the pit. Everything moves slow, and I feel stiff. My joints crack and pop their so cold. And red.

Al tears the seam of his shirt and wraps my hands. They're sore. I feel them throbbing and pulsing. My finger nails show dried blood underneath. I've never looked so evil, I think.

"I want to go home," I reapeat, mumbling and choking over the words. It hurts to speak.

"You have to get a hold of yourself. You've been repeating nonsense for the last few minutes! Devil, home, Amity, and Peter. Something about Eric as well."

I have? Now I'm lost in reality. I say things I don't remember. I've gone over the edge.

"Elea, stop murmering! Calm down," Al says, shaking me. I look at him, his eyes black as night. He glares. "Elea, there is no such thing as the devil!"

"Give her this," a softer voice says. I look up, and Tris slides down next to me. Al opens a familiar container and the smell of apples tickles my nose.

He hands it to me and I eat small pieces. It's buttery crust and sweet apples soothe my nerves. Home.

"See? Better!"

Al laughs and shuffles my hair. He's alright. I hand a small piece to Tris.

Her eyes glow with glee. It's like she's tasted heaven. Her first apple pie. Thankfully it is my mothers.

Together we eat in peace. Amity in Dauntless clothing. I sing a folk song to myself and Tris and Al talk among themselves.

"So you got third?" Al says, congratulating me. Then it hits me again. Eric. Tris nods in agreement.

"But what were you so upset about?" Her curious nature is that of an Erudite. I stand and put the rest of the pie in my pocket.

They look up at me. Their expressions worried. Without a word, I leave. Eric.

* * *

><p>My fist vibrate as I pound against the steel door leading in to Eric's Apartment. Dried blood turns wet causing his door to look like a crime scene. Growing tired I hit it with my palm, my wrist stinging. He groans from the other side muttering. But I continue to bang and slap his door. My patience are stretching thin.<p>

"Who is it?" he jokes. Look though the peephole! He opens the door, a thin chain preventing him from opening it any more than an inch. I can see a small smirk form on his lips.

"How dare you," I hiss through clenching teeth, my nostrils flaring, jaw tight. He looks me toe to forehead. My arms fold over my chest. He closes door just long enough to unhook the chain.

He motions for me to come in. His apartment is neat, organized unlike other men. The way it was the last time. The smell of burnt chicken hits me. Then I notice he's wearing a mitt. On any other day I would find this funny.

"How dare I what?" he asks, throwing the black chicken in the trash, and tossing the mitt away. "Fuck," he groans. He searches through his fridge like a vulture before settling with a beer. He grabbed two. The cold bottle is pushed into my chest.

"You boosted my ranking," I state sternly. I put on a confident shield. He laughs, amused by my confrontation.

"And you're upset?"

"You know why I'm upset!"

"What? Last night? Honey, that had nothing to do with it."

"Really?" He doesn't answer. He's lying. I may not be Candor, but I can sense his false words. He sprawls on his couch.

"Want to sit, initiate? Or are you just going to stand there?" I sit on a reclining chair, his legs shift in a manner that's tempting. I put the beer on the table and fold my hands over my lap. Our eye's connect, and he sighs, scratching the back of his neck. "You going to drink?"

"Whisky?"

"Whisky?" He raises his eyebrow.

"Tea?"

"Drink the fucking beer," he says, finishing his. I wasn't aware it was legal for me to, but I'm pretty sure it's not worse than getting whisky as a baby.

I pop the cap and take a drink. It's strong in all aspects. For a second I hate it, but then I like it. It gives a feeling of independence. He chuckles, shaking his head.

"Like it?" I nod, finishing it. My eyes scan him, but linger on his legs. I rise from my chair, he watches intensively. "You okay?" He grins, his hand rubs his stomach. I walk to his side and peck his cheek.

"You're not angry," he teases. He pulls me on his stomach, my legs on each side.

Eric's hands rub my thighs, massaging and then tickling. I lean down, and his arms move to my hips. Our lips meet for a second. My hair teases his nose, and his fingers pinch my sides.

A moan sneaks from me as Eric maneuvers my body back in forth in a manner that sends a cage of butterflies free in my stomach. My face flushes. I pause him, and shake my head.

"It doesn't feel right, " I whisper, rolling off him. He has a strong hold on my arm. He pleads with a pouting look. I slip out of his grasp. "Sorry."

"Yeah," he says.

Eric stands, places a soothing hand on the small of my back. Together we walk to the door. I feel a peck and flutter of eyelashes on my temple.

"I'm proud of you, really. You deserved the three because you've grown," he says, kissing my temple once more. He looks at my knuckles. "Run some hot water on it, alright?"

"Yeah," I mumble. I smile and he bids me goodnight.

I walk along the the chasm, a figure is in the distance. A familar tall figure with another alongside. Peter. He comes more to the light and I can see clearly. I'm not the only one with blood on my hands. He wipes it off and flings the cloth over the side. I hide against the wall hoping the darkness will keep me out of view. My breathing has never sounded so loud before.

"Maybe someone saw?" Drew asks in an urgent whisper. My heart pounds against my chest as they walk in my direction.

"Would you calm down?" Peter hisses. They walk past, but Peter stops and turns on his heels, coolly and arrogantly. "Elea?" His lips turn up in a twisted smirk. I take a few steps back keeping my eyes on his hand.

"You had blood on your hands," I say unintentionally. He shrugs.

"So don't you," he states. "Funny, isn't?" I'm backed up against the railing, trapped and lost. Peter is stronger than me. Ruthless and lacks an inch of remorse for anything. He smirks, his thumb rubbing my lips. "They feel a bit tender."

"What did you do?" He is silent, but Drew twitches with regret and guilt.

"Goodnight, Elea," he laughs, patting my head like I'm a child, beneath him and unworthy to know anything. He walks away shoving his hands in his pockets. A whistle echoes throughout.

Peter is an honest man, but not in the good way. He gave me a warning, and now I have a feeling he followed through.

Author Note, please read: I wrote another Divergent fanfic! If you **like this one, you'd definitely like that one! Mind reading and leaving a bit of love? :) I want to know what you think!**

**This chapter kicked my ass! I had such a hard time finding the correct words and everything. Hopefully you like it and review!**

**I appreciate all the support my readers give me. Thank you so much. :)**


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